


A Spectre's Carol (Playscript Version Included)

by TheNovelNightingale



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Christmas Carol Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts of Christmas, Guilt, Holidays, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Mass Effect 1, Mass Effect 3: Citadel, Mentions of Andromeda - Freeform, Novel, Post-Mass Effect 3, Racism, Screenplay/Script Format, Terminal Illnesses, Theatre, mass effect andromeda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNovelNightingale/pseuds/TheNovelNightingale
Summary: Saren Arterius is cruel to everyone, obsessed with his work as a dangerous agent for the council, straining relationships with his crew-members and even his own friend Nihlus. One the eve of a formal banquet in the honor of the Spectres, he is visited by four ghosts who hope to change his perspective of the galaxy.Its a fucking Mass Effect Christmas Carol yall.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Nihlus Kryik & Female Shepard, Saren Arterius & Nihlus Kryik
Comments: 21
Kudos: 14





	1. Author's Note

MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL

I fucking love christmas time. 

I bonded a lot with a buddy of mine with ‘virtual storytime’ where I found a M.E. fic and read it aloud.

I encourage you to share the experience! Read to your buddies with the novelization OR skip ahead, grab your friends and read the playscript version together. 

  
  


Novelization: Chapters 2-7

Playscript: Chapters 8-13


	2. Chapter I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the eve of a Galactic Holiday, Saren fights against festivities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue throughout is taken from the Mass Effect Trilogy, various versions of a Christmas Carol, and Mass Effect Andromeda. I own none of it.

The Citadel. Saren has been here for two days too long. He had cooped himself in his apartment study for its entirety while his ship underwent retrofit and refuel. It was the only change of scenery he’d allow before returning to the open void of the Terminus System. The two days had, at least, given him time to check up on his contacts and their reports in regards to his side project. 

The second the ship was cleared for duty Saren made his way back; around him the streets bustled with every species of every kind, going about their lives in a loud and boisterous way. His keen senses alerted him several times to those not watching where they were going and almost running into him. 

Strangely enough every single one of them tried to apologize with smiles too wide for his liking, but one look at the Council Spectre made them run away paler than before. He had that kind of effect on people. Over the years he has gone through some...transformations. His face was no longer one of decent looks, and the amount of plating and wires across his chest was increasing to power the cybernetics within. And increase of promised power. 

Still, the increase of activity and ...cheer was noted to look into with a slight annoyance, perhaps there was an event happening on the Citadel- not that it would matter as he was planning on leaving immediately. 

He reached the dark section of the Citadel’s docking bay through his private security and made his way up the ramp to his ship already in armor, and prepared to bark his orders the second the doors opened from decontamination. 

He could feel the stares from his small crew before the door fully opened. Good, they needed to be vigilant at all times, and to not go soft just because their ship needed repairs. 

His pilot barely spared a glance and went back to monitoring the controls, and Saren continued his way through the small CIC. Standing at the holo table with two stacks of datapads on either side of him, his second stood working diligently. Seemingly unmoved since Saren left the ship. Garrus Vakarian looked almost done with the pile of reports assigned to him from the last several missions. Saren would have to give him more to do. 

“Report.” Saren growled. 

The noise startled the younger man out of his trance of work, looking annoyed more than anything but smart enough to keep shut about it. Against the preferred and correct answer, the younger decided to crack wise. “You know, I thought leaving C-Sec meant _less_ paperwork.”

Saren moved to his own terminal at the CIC, his earpiece ringing with the VI voice of succession to logging in wirelessly. His eyes gazed at the consol. “You are welcome to go back.” 

A tone swap such as that should have ended the humor, but Vakarian was not a normal Turian; one of many reasons he worked on the Spectre’s ship. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Hierarchy pups. The CSec officer was causing too much trouble for the station, and after seeing his skills in an armed robbery Saren happened to be nearby for a different investigation- he jumped at the opportunity to join. Almost too eagerly. 

Vakarian hummed in response. “Wouldn’t dad just love that. Spectre, permission to speak?” 

Saren shot him a look as an answer to continue. 

Vakarian straightened his back, “The girl is all good to go but…” He faltered. “We are being blocked by security from leaving.” Around the room movement stilled to silence. Saren merely twitched. Valerian coughed to add some noise to the void between them. “It seems we’re grounded. It might have something to do with events with the Celestial New Year.” 

The Galaxy wide holiday. Of course. The mention of its name made Saren clench his talons on the edge of the table. His counterpart either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he continued. 

“Which would probably be why my sister won’t stop messaging me asking when I'm coming home...” The younger rubbed the back of his neck, “-and I can only take so many transmissions.”

“Your sister should know you work for a council spectre. My work takes priority over some ridiculous holiday.” 

“Of course, but-”

“Do you think Batarian slavers care about holidays?” Saren snapped, stunning the other Turian to silence. “Or the Blood Pack? Or the Blue suns? Or Red Sand dealers? In the grand scheme of things my work outweighs all else. They should understand that. Celestial New Year is a waste of time.” 

Vakarian opened his mouth to argue, but clapped his mandibles shut instead. Whatever information scrolled on his visor eyepiece Saren somehow allowed despite knowing of its recording features- well none of that information could help him now. When he finally spoke, it was out of strained submission. 

“Yes Spectre. Speaking of the Council, there’s a call for you.” 

“I’ll take it in my quarters. Deal with C-SEC. I want us cleared to depart.” He turned swiftly to exit the room, another lieutenant jumping out of his way by the elevator. Vakarian’s low breath just barely heard as the doors closed in front of him. 

“Great, more red tape...” 

*****

Saren marched down the hallway into his quarters and sat down at his desk terminal to open the communication. His mood had taken a drastic turn; annoyance became frustration when the year was about to turnover. He hated Celestial New Years. 

Three blue hologram figures appeared on his desk in smaller scale. Saren held his composure, but internally basked in the slight comfort for having to look down at the mighty leaders of the Council. He could get used to that feeling. But it was short lived; the three looked ready for a verbal fight. 

“Spectre.” Tevos, the Asari Councilor greeted. “We were informed of your intended departure; we have given you no immediate assignments.” 

“If you recall I requested _any_ assignment,” Saren sat back in his chair, “High priority or not.” He would be willing to hunt down petty thievery crimes if it meant getting off this damned station for the time being. 

Councilor Sparatus, the Turian representative, bowed in. “We collectively agreed on this eve of Celestial New Years that you are to take an extended break.” 

The Spectre’s eyes zoned in on his employers, realization setting in. “ _You_ grounded me?” 

Tevos raised her hand to calm his rising tone. “Your duties can hold for another week or so. As our top agent we want to take the time to appreciate what the Spectres do. The Celestial Banquet tomorrow evening is our largest gathering of the year for celebration of the discovery of the Citadel.” She darkened her gaze and added, “Not that I expect you to know since you’ve never attended the event.”

The Banquet. Every year for the Celestial New year the Council and all their associates gather with the Spectres for an evening of festivities. Tevos is correct, he has never attended in all the years he has been a Spectre. The last thing he wanted was to parade around pretending everything was perfectly fine in this mess of a galaxy. 

“I know of the day.” Saren bit out, exhausted with the fact he has to answer to these people. “It is a ridiculous notion to bolster the egos of the population that passing time is a good thing.” He gazed at each and every one of them. “Celestial New Years is foolhardy; a mask over the dirt and grime in the Terminus Systems. False hope and optimism.” 

Tevos balked. “Celestial New Years? False hope?” 

“It also pampers the swelling pride of the Asari, since they were the ones who made the day.” Saren held his eyes to the Asari Councilor; she scowled at him, a slight flicker of blue glow around the crown of her head. 

Councilor Valern, slightly bored of it all, spoke up. “Truth is it will look bad on us if you do not attend. We do not make you work this hard.” 

Saren allowed the staring contest to break as he answered the Salarian. “I work for you, but what I do in my spare time is my own.” 

They could tell him what information to get, who to kill, and who to make disappear. He would not be told what to do in between any of that. This went all too far. 

Councilor Spartatus shifted his weight, looking to his counterparts and noting it was his turn to try and compromise with the terrifying Turian. “It would be nice for you to make an appearance and perhaps meet with our newest applicant.” 

Another point to add to his growing list of grievances: the human. Anderson’s little pet now among the special tactics and reconnaissance for candidacy. “No. You are making a grave mistake by allowing it.” Humans were a virus, he hated them almost as much as Celestial New Years. 

The other Turian held his ground with a thicker voice, “We allow Spectre Kryik to go ahead with his evaluation.” He looked to Saren unafraid, “As the most _decorated_ agent, we trust his judgement.” 

Nihlus may be decorated, but he was one of the few to do the diplomatic missions no one else wanted to take. Saren found that hardly notable, he was still a top agent. Everyone who knew of him knew to be afraid. 

Tevos emerged from her silence with a final command. The words light, the tone darker than the black holes in space. “You have no choice Spectre. We hope to see you tomorrow. And Happy Celestial New Years.” 

Saren growled and ended the call with the stab of a button. 

Being forced to celebrate- no. They could do what they wish, but he will not bend to their whim. His anger pooled to his fists, and before he knew it without even thinking his left hand had snatched a spare Omni-Tool display booster from his desk and threw it across his room, smashing it against the wall and splintering it into pieces. 

Breathing heavily he attempted to keep calm. There had to be away out of this; he was not going to that Celestial banquet. Over his dead body. 

With a soft whoosh the door to his room opened against its will. He would normally assault anyone who ever dared to hack his door, but the familiar maroon carapace that strode in halted the thought. There were very few people he would turn on. 

Nihlus leaned against the doorframe in amusement, his green eyes lingering over the new destruction in the corner. “Saren; I knew I would find you here.” 

Saren scoffed and turned away from him, placing his palms on his desk as his heart rate slowed. “This is my ship Nihlus.” Thankfully he came alone. 

His old friend took another step in, “Well Vakarian told me you were in a mood, and your little display tells me you got grounded.”

“And I'm assuming you had something to do with it.” He turned back around at his full height to face Nihlus. 

He feigned offense, “Of course not, but I can’t say I tried to stop them. There I am about to ask you when you’re arriving tomorrow, but then I hear you were leaving?” 

“I had a mission Nihlus.” 

“Not urgent enough for the council to chain you here.” He leaned against the desk next to him, humming in thought. “Saren you’ve wiped out half the Blue Suns within a week, whatever it is you were planning could wait another day.” Saren said nothing, choosing to walk away from the other Turian and snatch the pieces off the floor, allowing the silence between them to linger. No doubt Nihlus would fill the void. 

As predicted, Saren counted down to the very moment he opened his mouth as he gazed around his desk space. 

“You've been avoiding me.” 

Saren tossed the scraps into his disposal next to the desk, “I am not avoiding you.” 

The clicking noise from his second larynx said he thought otherwise. “Fine. you’re avoiding my protege and by extension me. Who I think you would like.” 

Diplomatic missions have made Nihlus too soft, working with humans and not choosing one as a possible Spectre was blasphemy. Almost a betrayal to existence itself. “It’s a filthy human. Blight of the galaxy and you lower yourself by thinking-” 

Nihlus cut him off with just a hint of aggravation. “Saren your racism serves as nothing but annoyance. Even if _she’s_ a problem I want to spend time with my oldest friend.” he waved his hand in the air for emphasis. “The council is paying for the entire thing. And let your crew take some real time off. Not everyone is a machine like you.” The last note was added as an afterthought, but it struck like a chord, igniting a flare of paranoia within. 

Saren felt the nerves connected to his bionic arm tingle; there was no way he knew. “Get out.” 

Nihlus stared at him for a whole second, then nodded and got up from the desk. “Fine, Spirits knows I can’t get to you when you’re like this.”

Saren listened to his footsteps exit the room and travel down the hallway. The door closed him back into isolation. 

The ship was grounded then. 

He would rather befriend a Krogan than do anything with the Celestial New years. Saren lifted his left hand, looking at all the mechanical ports of his new and improved arm, following the tubes connecting into his chest cavity. In his mind the whispers began once more. He needed to work on his project, that would pass the time. He would go back home and lock himself into his study to hide from the celebrations of the entirety of the Citadel. 

He needed to work on something before he threw someone out of the airlock. 

He will stay docked. Make them think he will remain, but once the banquet begins he will hack security and slip out before the council notices. 

During these thoughts Saren was already back at the CIC, barking over his shoulder as he began his premature exit. 

“Vakarian. We leave tomorrow at 2100. You are dismissed for the next twenty hours. Do not even think about being late.” 

Vakarian nodded, but said nothing. 


	3. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At home he is visited by the first spirit. A warning of things to come.

When Saren re- entered his apartment provided by the Council in the upper ward, he was thankfully greeted by silence. 

Still, the silence felt colder than when he left it. His hand pressed against the sidearm subconsciously, eyes darting around the blackness in the corners of his apartment. After a beat, from outside his window he heard a roar from a passing crowd traveling in a pack. He exhaled, releasing his grip. 

The council may be right about him working too hard. 

He cooked himself some veal and settled at his desk double checking the reports Vakarian had completed. Strangely it didn’t take long, the reports were all in...acceptable order. He was only surprised by it because vakarian seemed less likely to be by the book on anything; all the years in the Hierarchy and under his father’s rules must have stuck with him. 

The reports were filed away and Saren jumped back into his personal project, shifting to the sheet covered display on the edge of his desk. With a quick grab he removed the sheet, uncovering the artifact and gagging its readings with the small instruments on his desk. The Prothean fragment was his and his alone, a key to the future of the galaxy. No one knew he had it. The whispers in his mind aided him, and his left arm worked quickly in sync with its glowing energy. 

He worked late into the night, so deep in his mind even the sounds of premature celebration outside the walls couldn’t deter him. 

Checking the time to see how late into the cycle it was, Saren put the artifact back into its safe, the vibrations of raw power dissipating as he locked it up once more, covering it with the sheet. Saren rose from his chair and shut down his terminal, turning to leave to retire for the night. 

The lights in his room flickered. 

Saren cocked his head to the air around him, considering the possibility that the festivities were fluctuating the power sources of the attached buildings. He took another step forward-

The lights flickered again rapidly; extinguishing him into pitch darkness. 

“Inadequate maintenance…” Saren grumbled. The backup generator should come on momentarily if the problem doesn’t fix itself. Living on this forsaken station shouldn’t be this much of a hassle. 

Behind him, his terminal had flashed back on in a strange green glow, while the lights above remained dark. 

Saren grumbled again, approaching the glowing display with smooth steps. 

His talon hovered over the proper keys and initiated the shutdown once more. The screen remained green, strange code scrolling in overlapping sequences. 

He pressed the key again. Nothing. 

An explosion of green erupted in front of him without any notice, its intensity knocking him to the floor, his eyes adjusting to a new sight, craning his neck to look up at the hologram figure now standing above him. 

“What is this?” 

A pale Turian with familiar thin, dark markings crossed his arms and gazed down at him with a dour expression. “Saren. Good to see you again.” 

That voice. This was insanity. There was no possible way this was real, this couldn’t have been recorded, and this certainly couldn’t be a live transmission. This Turian- if it be him- was supposed to be out of contact for the next six hundred years.

Saren got to his feet, unholstering his pistol: this could also be a trap. “Who are you?” He had many enemies, but who would be idiotic enough to try and pull this off?

The Hologram gave a dark chuckle almost too much like his old mentee. “I guess 15 years wasn’t enough.” 

Saren narrowed his eyes. “15 years is the same to anyone else I know.” This could be anything, a test even. His arm began to hurt once more, the back of his brain tingling with warning. 

If the Initiative Program had failed... then they were found by the Reapers, and they couldn’t escape after all. Saren tried to warn Rix you couldn’t run from what you cannot escape. 

The figure sighed with reproof, “In the Terminus you knew me as your apprentice: Avitus Rix. Council Spectre.” 

Saren needed answers. “I thought you left for the initiative.” 

“I did.” 

Saren shook his head. “Impossible. You should be in Cryo.” 

The mandibles of the crackling connection flicked in annoyance. “I am not here to discuss myself Spectre.” 

The attitude was exact to Rix; Saren could not deny the effort in the theatrics. “Then why are you here?” 

The room felt darker save for the pooling screen lights. Rix fell at ease, his eyes looking him up and down, lingering a bit longer on the arm he had improved. Like he was being thoroughly examined. “You’ve changed. The Saren I know is Ruthless.” 

Saren clenched his fists. “I am.” He should know that, Rix even praised him for it. That hasn’t changed. 

Besides the slight nod of his head, Rix gave away nothing. “Sure, but now I think it's beyond that.”

“What are you saying?”

Against the physics and science of hsi equipment, the hologram moved. Rix took a step, and instead of falling out of view with the projection his body followed off the table, now level with the Spectre himself. Rix still towered over him as he got closer. Saren was shorter than the average Turian. He made up for it with might. 

Rix still gazed into him like a potential threat, “Spectres are prone to going crazy for what we deal with.” Slowly he began to circle Saren, leaving him twitchy with his gun. “Everyone has their breaking point Saren, I think you’re reaching yours.” 

Saren twisted and attempted to land a punch to his lower mandible, but his fist flew through nothing. Behind him the green glow reappeared with the reformed and unharmed body. Rix dipped his voice. “Either deal with it or get out while you can.”

Saren twisted around to attempt another punch agan, but the hologram was faster, already blinking back onto the desk. He marched around the terminal and began ripping at the connector ports. “You’re not real. I’ve been working too hard, or this is a test from Sovereign for where my loyalties lie.” Everything was unplugged, but the hologram still remained. Saren stood back to his full height, activating his omni tool to try to hack the program. This needed to end. 

“That’s the problem Saren.” Rix continued unbothered. “This is a warning.” Saren paused his typing to look at Rix. “Tonight you will be visited by three spirits.”

Saren returned to typing. “Humor was always a crutch of yours.” 

With a wave of his illuminated hand Saren’s Omni Tool glitched out, the screen cracking in broken code unseen to even fix. “Expect the first within the hour. The second at the next hour, and the third shall appear thereafter as the cycle turns on the eve of Celestial New years.”

Saren flared his biotics, now officially ticked off by the harassment. “Whoever you are, whatever you are, you will not deter me. You will certainly not lecture me.” 

“Saren this bigger than you and me. You are going down a dark path-” 

“And Celestial New Year is supposed to be some answer?” Saren measured up to Rix, remembering the days that he got up in his face to insult him on a bad judgement call. 

“If I am to have  _ visitors _ .” Saren warned, flaring his biotics, “they should all come at once.” 

Rix stared unblinking, breaking contact to look at the floor with the shake of his head. 

“Find your Initiative Saren. For all our sakes.” 

Green bubbled to blinding light, a wash rippled throughout the room and past the walls. Outside the Citadel halted for just a moment, the lights blinking before continuing its constant vibrant atmosphere. Saren’s apartment remained dark. His Omni-Tool had seized flickering and not sat like a hollow shell on his arm. Nothing would work. He could fix it, some sort of EMP device maybe- “Nonsense.” Saren told himself. He was making sense of this. None of this was real. It had to be a test, or a very bad prank. Unable to continue his project, or any work for that matter- he would rest for the night, and if anyone wanted to prank him further he would deal with it. 


	4. Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saren is visited by the second spirit.

He could feel eyes on him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling due to his contract with Sovereign, but this was of someone in close proximity: in his bedroom. 

How do people keep getting into his apartment? 

He whipped back his sheet and the concealed weapon beneath his pillow and swung his legs over the edge. “You should know I do not take well to intruders.” He told the figure. “In fact your lifespan shortened immensely.” 

The intruder was an Asari, dressed in a suit of white. Her soft round face told him she was very young, but her eyes- although kind- held a dangerous amount of both naivety and knowledge. Not the typical Asari who would threaten his life. She must be incredibly obtuse.

In her hands she held a datapad, its screen glow barely bright enough to penetrate the stronger biotic glow around her, but unlike normal biotics it appeared less rigid and violent. It was almost ethereal. She was unperturbed by the weapon in her face. 

“Hello Saren Arterius. This won’t take too long.” 

“I should hope it doesn’t.” 

She continued, “My name is Liara T’soni. I have things to show you of your Celestial New years past.” 

T’soni. He knew that name. Matriarch Benezias’s only daughter. How could the daughter of one of his few allies be involved in this? And Saren wondered if Benezia knew. 

Saren growled in annoyance that the premonition of Rix held true, but that didn’t mean he had to comply. “I will be shown nothing. Do nothing with you and your tricks.” Holding his killer stare his free hand grasped at the edges of his sheets. “Leave now or face my wrath.” 

The Asari gave the slightest hint of a frown, “I’m afraid that is not an option.” 

She reached out and touched his hand folded around the gun, and light enveloped them both.

*****

Land of tans and greens rolled to the horizon under a cloudy sky. Menae hovered beyond with its glowing rim. They were on Palaven. 

He pinched himself to a point that blood began to pool around his talons. The pain was immediate, real, this was real, but the question of  _ how _ couldn’t be formed. The question of  _ where _ and  _ when _ stood in the front. 

He refused to ask because he knew where he was: answered by the large Duma laid before him. The bathhouse, the training grounds, the pride of the Arterius family all where he remembered them. He hasn’t seen this house in decades. He could even smell the Palevini lilies from the garden. He would learn later that the smell was similar to turpentine, a human term for their holiday trees of Pine. This was his childhood home.

“There are no lights on at your house.” 

He snapped his head to the Asari; whom in his legitimate surprise of the scenery he had foolishly forgotten was by his side. Her face held no malice, nor threat, but her ominous words put him on edge. “Your parents were killed months prior to this.”

He took a step towards her, “How do you know that?” This information was scarcely known. 

The Asari smiled, “I am very good at knowing things, Spectre. I also know your family was outcast by your clan, and following your parents’ deaths young Desolas had to raise you alone.” 

At that mention he whipped his head around, his eyes meeting a crippling familiar sight. A flash of mauve raced around the dark house, checking over their shoulder expecting a follower. The Duma was dark, even darker than he remembered: colder. They had little food, yet somehow Saren was always fed. Desolas did well for both of them still being children. “Come on Saren keep up!” A voice said.

“Impossible…” Saren breathed. “My brother…” 

lighter grey flew around the corner of the estate after him. Saren watched himself as a fledgeling chase his older brother. 

“I will get you this time!” The younger Saren promised. No scars. No tubes and wires, no replaced arm. Besides the elongated plates on the side of his head, a trait shared by his brother, he was a whole different Turian.

The house was dark, but flashes of light illuminated the walls by the distant town and their fireworks igniting in the night sky. It was Celestial New Years. 

The Asari came to his side, smiling at the two youngsters playing in the front yard. “You were alone in this house for months.” 

“My parents were nobodies.” Saren shut down, forcing himself to keep control to not show her he was invested in the scene in front of him. “The Hierarchy didn’t even know they were dead. My brother took responsibility for me and the estate.” He gazed at his younger self leaping forward, tackling his brother to the ground for light wrestling. Desolas was old enough to have his marks on his face, marks Saren never got. At first by restrictions, then by choice.

“But he couldn’t.” 

Between the fading trails of various colors, in the sky a small shadow descended upon the edge of their property. A skycar was approaching.

Deep inside Saren’s gut a knot formed: it was  _ this _ Celestial New Year.

The two young Turians stopped their play as adult Turians exited the vehicle, approaching them fully armed and with holstered weapons. The headlights of the skycar cast dark shadows over their faces, making them appear more frightening in Saren’s young mind. 

One of them looked to Desolas, the taller of the two. “Are you Desolas Arterius?” 

Desolas pulled Saren to his feet, being just slightly in front of him like a shield. “Who’s asking?” 

“We are from Social Services. We understand you are here alone. We have come to relocate you.” 

Behind Desolas young Saren sparks with biotics against his will. “I was untrained,” Saren the older began to say aloud. “And that was dangerous to the Turian Hierarchy.” 

The two officers noticed immediately and were taken aback. “Are you biotic?” Young Saren, scared, didn't answer. “Answer me pup!”

“He is, we both are.” Desolas blocked their view of his brother fully now, tightening his fists into small balls and glowing on his own. “If you want him you have to go through me!” 

Saren watched his younger self place a hand on his brother's shoulder, “Desolas..” He whined. 

“All biotics are to be registered and set up for immediate Cabal training,” The officer reminded them. 

Desolas was firm. “There’s nothing wrong with us! It’s Celestial New Year… Can’t we do this tomorrow?” 

Spectre Saren turned away from the scene in thought. 

“What bothers you?” T’Soni asked. 

He shouldn’t have answered, but it was better than watching the officers negotiate what was going to happen to the two of them. “We celebrated the holiday every year. When we were left alone, it was one of the few things we still could have.” He turned after half a minute to watch the officers begin to lead the two towards the skycar. To relocate. To send them away. Cabal training. 

He hated and appraised this day. Because of that day his bond with his brother only grew, and he began training to be a powerful biotic. 

As the two young Turians hopped into the back of the car, Desolas sat next to his little brother, tossing an arm over his shoulder and holding him close. “Don’t worry brother, long as we’re together. We’ll be great soldiers! You’ll see.” 

Both Sarens believed him. 

The Asari spoke up to his dismay.“Come, there is more to see.” 

Before he could object, to watch his childhood one more time as the skycar lifted into the festive sky, blue surrounded him and whisked them away. 

*****

Opposite the serenity of a tragic childhood; Saren was tossed into a world of a thunderstorm. He caught himself on rocky ground, looking up just as lightning flashed across the dreary sky planets away from his homeworld. Gunfire and shouting surrounded him. This was a more fresh nightmare. 

An older, more gruff voice commanded behind him. “Alpha take the left! We’ll surround them!” 

Saren got to his feet just as a missile above descended from the sky. It was too late to run, and Saren instinctively raised a biotic shield from its prowess. Debris flew around him with the missile's impact less than a few feet away. His barrier remained intact, and untouched. 

“We are but ghosts here.” T’Soni informed him from his left. “We are safe, as well as unseen and unheard.” 

More tricks. Saren dismissed her to turn towards the voice. Up on a build platform of a small Turian camp several Turians stood in surveillance of the battlefield before them. At the head mauve peaked against the other Turians. Desolas was a General now, commanding on Shanxi. This was the middle of the Relay Incident.

Desolas lowered his binoculars, turned and clamped a hand on a younger Turian’s shoulder. “I want you to lead the squad.” 

Saren approached the camp, climbing over a reused crate for the barrier to catch the nineteen year older Saren, his mandibles flaring in surprise. 

“What? me?”

Desolas laughed, “I know you can do it Saren. I trust no one else.” 

Saren remembered the war with great detail, he was considered young for the events that transpired, Desolas put so much on his shoulders. 

The Asari had slipped quietly next him. “You climbed the ranks in those three months. Your own command.” 

Another Turian soldier raced down the walkway, running through Saren’s shoulder like he was nothing. What she said rang true, which meant this could all just be imagination. “He had his own platoon. Barefaces like me could fight without prejudice.” 

Desolas removed his hand, straightening up with a small smile. “Commander Vyrnnus. Lieutenant Abrudas. You’re with Saren.”

Saren quietly gasped as two more familiar sights- a male and female Turian- jumped up on the platform in line. “Yes general.” 

“Vyrnnus. Abrudas. My...allies.” The Spectre’s eyes bounced between the two; it's been thirty years since he has seen his old comrades. 

Abrudas, who Saren remembered died under mysterious circumstances, spoke up. “One speech before we go general.” She motioned to younger Saren’s side, bumping his arm. “Give our brother a good sendoff.” 

“You were closer than that,” T’Soni put in with small mirth. 

He could ignore her, but she obviously knew enough to make a judgement. “Serving with them was the best time of my life. Vyrnnus tutored us in biotics; and taught us all we needed to know not only to survive in a galaxy where your own people would never trust you, but to make them respect you.” Saren crossed his arms over his chest. “He was a valued asset.”

“An asset? Was that all?”

“Yes.” He said bluntly, hoping she was still too young to understand what his subvocals were giving away. “That is all they were.” 

Back at the flashback before him Desolas handed off his binoculars to another soldier, “Very well.” As the rain pounded against their armored bodies, the soldiers shuffled around below their general, listening intently. 

Desolas raised his voice loud and proud, his younger brother flanking each side of him. “We have the Humans cornered, their main base surrounded. Now it is time to pounce. And their General Williams will surrender to us.” A series of snickers and growls murmured from the mention of their enemy’s leader. “We are Turian! Our people will show them!” 

The Turians all echoed, “Even to our dying breath!” 

“So long as one of us stands in the end, we are victorious!”

“A good human is a dead one!” Vyrnnus roared, others roaring in agreement. 

They cheered, and Abrudas and Vyrnnus fell in behind the young Saren as he gave one last look to his brother, and marched off to gather the rest of the squad. T’Soni’s soft voice was heard over the celebrating cheers. “Commander Vyrrnus moved on after the war contracted by the Hierarchy. A biotic school.” 

Saren scowled. “A human killed him.” 

“Are all humans as terrible as you believe?”

Saren turned on the woman immediately and without hesitation. “Yes. They showed up demanding everything they had not yet earned. Greed is their creed.” 

His twist surprised the Asari, causing her to take a small step back, but still she persisted. “Why did you stop celebrating Celestial new years?” 

Desolas began to retreat down the pathway to other business, Saren chose to follow the shadow for no reason in particular, except maybe to escape the annoying Asari. “Your questions have no point. I grew up. I had responsibility.” 

She followed easily, speed or evasion could get rid of her. “Yes, but it seemed like you could have both.” She glanced at the festivities. “And if they could accept you for being barefaced, why could you not chance on others?”

Desolas disappeared among a crowd of Turians and into the flap of a tent. Saren had lost sight of him. In his frustration he barked. “Humans are not the same, Asari.” 

A beat of silence disturbed him. Saren turned to see a stricken woman clutching her datapad. The wrinkles on her forehead aged her, whatever she wanted to bite at, she did not let it stop her. 

“There is one more stop.” 

Saren towered over her. “Fine. Just get this over with.” 

*****

Saren landed far more gracefully on a sandy ground high on a hill, the humidity of rainstorms vanishing like a dream. Even his armor was completely dry, no single drop of water remained to shimmer beneath the high sun. If he looked behind him he would barely see Menae again at the far horizon. Below in the valley a tall slim structure of stone and geometric glass stood alone in wait. The mountains around them shuddered from an evil nearby. Saren’s eyes darted around, this was the last place he wanted to be-

“The Hierarchy has no files of this event.” Liara T’Soni did not look at him, but to the Temple idle below. “They were redacted for a few weeks before being completely erased.” 

The Temple of Palaven. Saren’s first mission as a Spectre. His heart began to race in explosive anger, turning on the Asari immediately. “How do you know!” With swiftness in his prime he snatched her by the throat and lifted her into the air in a single moment. “Answer me!” 

Tricks were one thing, but this went too far. No one knew about this. Anyone who ever did was dead underground. Anyone who ever asked went missing. This child could not even comprehend-

“Saren.”

That voice. 

His grip loosened and the Asari fell to the ground, gasping for air. Saren twisted his body in panic only to see that their faraway view of the temple had changed. They were now inside. 

He shook his head in disbelief at the scene. “No.” 

Saren watched himself thirty years ago, newly decorated Spectre- the youngest. A pride he held higher than any medal. And his first major assignment was an investigation leading him to his very own blood. 

Desolas brother stood before him, a paler version of the one who gave him command, than the one who stood up for him in front of officers, holding out his hand to him in front of a Prothean monolith in a round room. It glowed with knowledge, power, surrounding them Turians were herded into a sacrificial line, others standing vigil donned with dark robes of the growing cult the ex General had created. 

“My brother, join me. We can do this. It’s always been you and me.” His eyes were different, he spoke different, his voice was his but the pattern was off. Forced. Controlled. This was no longer his brother, he hasn’t been for some time now. 

The new Spectre did not yield. “You’re compromised Desolas.” 

Saren turned on the wicked woman who brought him here, knowing what was to come. “Stop this. Now.” 

She stood with her hands over her lap a ways away, shaking her head. “It is the past. It cannot be changed. It cannot be stopped.” 

“I will not see this again.” He flared his biotics in a vile surge; the woman raising her own. 

She went into a stance. “You have no choice.” 

The younger Saren could never follow others, he was independent in his own right, he made his own choices. So when he turned down his brother his followers attacked him. The transformed turian victims attacked him, eyes glowing and hollow. Husks of what they once were. Saren focused his energy of attacking the Asari as to not see the things he remembered in every nightmare. She barely dodged his first attack, parrying with her own shockwave. 

Young Saren held combat on his own, but after a whirlwind thrust forward with biotics the sounds of combat fell away; Saren knocked into T’Soni so hard they were back outside upon the hill, but he didn’t care. They circled each other with hands flared. Her determination angered him further. He had to make her stop. 

This child knew nothing. His hatred of humans, of even the Celestial New Year was not of false judgement. A Spectre’s duty was to clean up the galaxy, all this nonsense was a distraction to keep him from the ultimate goal. He did what he had to do and was not allowed to regret it. 

He attempted a warp, which raised her into the air with struggle. She fought hard, he needed to end it now. 

He took out his pistol, shooting at her as quickly as he could. Her powers, her abilities, whatever she was in the Spirit realm or not, could almost match his. She broke the hold, descending to the ground with focused biotic blocks of each bullet depleting immediately. She was out of breath, but determined. She learned much from her mother. But not enough. 

The ground rumbled beneath their feet. The air wailed. In the horizon a Turian frigate arrived above the vacant land, and fired down upon the building without mercy. Saren was briefly distracted, lowering his pistol to the sight, staring at the temple in anticipation, a part of him wondering, and another part wishing. 

At first it was quiet, but then the sonic blast from the crumbling base shot across the ten mile radius, blowing up smoke and dirt. Saren caught the glint of his small ship escaping the cloud, passing by the collapsing Spire of the Temple which would be his brother’s grave. 

All the feelings he should have had thirty years ago broke through. Anger boiled in his blood. A single movement he threw reave at the Asari Spirit. 

Luck or quick thinking make her react in hate with her own barrier, just enough to cover her full body. He pushed harder, growling beneath the sounds of destruction behind them. 

She began to strain, but held up. 

Unfortunate for her, Saren was far more experienced, and shattered her barrier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "even to our dying breath" line was taken from the Elite Rtas 'Vadum's speech in the video game Halo 2 (badass speech as a whole)


	5. Chapter IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saren is visited by the third Spirit

Saren’s body fell from the height of his bedroom ceiling, the floor flattening his back with several small pops from within. His augmented cybernetic eyes flashed around the room. The Temple, the Asari, both were gone; and his apartment was once again empty. 

Or so he thought. 

Just as he found his equilibrium to rise from the floor, somewhere in another room he heard a small clinking noise. 

He checked his Omni-Tool to still see it wouldn’t turn on, his personal Terminal still dark, so with his pistol reloaded and rearmed he crept out of his bedroom, now spotting a small light from the foyer. 

His kitchen was in use. 

Small candles dotted around the counters, a far more comfortable glow so rarely found in Saren’s space. A soft minty smell wafted in the air. In the serene space, a calm rumble spoke.

“As killers we take much for granted. The measure of the individual can be difficult to discern by actions alone.” 

His back was to Saren, bent over the table with hands resting together. Next to him a steaming cup of tea sat. The shape of his profile told Saren he was Drell, tricky bastards to deal with, especially if they were of the Compact. 

Saren has been patient enough, now the events have turned sour and no longer amusing. He decided to strike first and rid his apartment of these many spies. There was no more to see. 

His pistol was raised to the back of the Drell’s head with his approach, but the Drell sensed his presence from miles away. One swift movement an arm twisted around, knocking the weapon back with force, and leaving Saren open for a follow up attack to his chest. Saren blocked with his free hand, stepping back as the opponent leapt out of the chair with precision and grace. Now facing him, Saren immediately noted the person to be confirmed male, green face focused and fixed, his hands raised for another deflection. Saren gave him no such chance, pushing forward for a hit at his kneecaps to take him to the ground. 

The Drell was fast, gliding out of the way. The Spectre’s head was left wide open for a punch, and used the inertia to guide him in a forward roll, returning to his feet to continue the fight. 

But the Drell did not pursue. Against all odds the Drell had dropped his stance, standing straight with a noble posture and folded his hands behind his back. “Your skills are impressive, and I have fought many Spectres before.” Saren was being inspected by the dark voids considered eyes; a gloss of sorrow beneath the surface. Then again the Drell were a miserable species. 

Saren stopped himself; he was being mocked he was sure. “You will fail this time, with any foul play you behold for me.” 

Opposite of T’soni the younger, the Drell’s attire was fitted and black as the shadows, except for the long open coat he donned with a revealed bare chest. Minimal Armor, Saren noted. Likely indeed a member of the compact, and a living weapon for contracted assassinations. 

“Fail?” The Drell questioned, “Not with this Spectre. Walk with me, see the universe as it is.”

Saren matched his pose in defiance, “I will not continue this joke. You’ll have to die trying to make me follow you.” 

The drell chuckled, “how Petulant the great Spectre can be. If I had wanted to kill you, I would have already done it.” 

An argument formed in his mind, but was shut down by another glance around the room. The Drell Assassin was another biotic. This one may prove to be more of a challenge than the previous spirit. 

“Then tell me your name.” 

The drell took a handful of floating steps towards him, turning to stand side by side to the Spectre himself. Eyes forward, a large oval portal opened in front of them. His dark eyes stared forward, blinking once with their double eyelids. He was vulnerable to any attack Saren could have given, at least it would have been a surprise, but he held his stance instead. 

“Thane Krios,” He answered.

*****

A single step took them into a heavy crowd just along the walk of a set of buildings in a different ward. The screech of a descending public transit muted the footsteps around them. People of all species walked around Saren completely unaware of his presence. Here they must still be but only shadows. 

Saren may have gotten too used to the insane night, allowing others of the real realm to pass through him as a reminder that none of this was real. He sought out the Drell, Krios, but the stealth master had disappeared. It lasted for only moments, the Turian found him waiting within the crowd, somehow safe from the spectral public; perhaps by intuition or supernatural ability, but they all parted the way around him whilst he stood, hands behind his back in the center of the walkway waiting for Saren. 

“What are we doing here?” Saren asked as they continued to walk. He scowled at the joy around him. Asari with handbags of gifts, Salarians speaking to each other of their detailed plans for the next evening. Saren checked the time on a public hologram: it seems no time has passed since he had seen the second Spirit. 

Thane gave a small wave as they turned down a street. It was a dark alleyway Saren was far too familiar with from his needed shortcuts through the wards. In the distance a Keeper scuttled towards them, eyes on the datapad in its hand. 

Someone had taken to ‘decorating’ the keeper with badges and stickers, and Saren even caught the glint of a Thessian shawl, a ceremonial weave said to be a blessing from Athame. A blessing for Celestial New years. 

“This is very... festive isn’t it?” Thane asked in humor as the Keeper approached. 

The Spectre didn’t even try to find it amusing; the Keepers were not to be touched period. “The Keepers are celebrated with the holiday,” He answered instead. The two parties parted ways down the alleyway, Thane leading them back into the populated streets. 

“The discovery of the Citadel, and then the council, marks a new future in harmony,” Thane explained, “The Keepers were here from the start, they maintain the station all walks of life are welcome to live on.” 

“They are Keepers, they do not need to be celebrated, they cannot be touched.” Saren stared at the back of the Drell’s head, knowing well enough he could probably feel it. “This is a selfish holiday to boost egos. They do not understand.” Now he was conversing with the Spirits, he needed to stop talking. 

The Drell had caught on to every word as they rounded another corner. “Understand what exactly?” Saren froze under Thane’s ghostly gaze. Saren Arterius, ruthless Spectre, master of all forms of hand to hand combat and biotic prowess, had already given too much away of his secret personal project which could affect the galaxy as a whole. It may not have been anything for the lower form of minds, but this Drell seemed to find what he said very interesting. But he said nothing of it, whatever he knew stayed between them, only making Sare more curious. “This is our stop.” 

He gestured across the street to a neighborhood of blue collar housing. Not the worst of wards to live in. More than happy to drop the subject unsaid, Saren followed Thane across the street. They walked through a front entrance, appearing on a higher floor in the apartment complex. 

They weren’t alone, just down the hallway Saren recognized the other Turian. “Vakarian.” 

The Turian had been standing in front of his door longer than necessary, shifting from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his head in a sign of nervousness. Eventually he raised a fist, lingering before knocking at the door. 

The door opened and a lighter, higher voice of another Turian greeted him. “Garrus.” The female with matching markings went in for an embrace, but instead promptly punched him in the shoulder, hard. “Didn’t think to give us a call once and a while? Where have you been?!” 

Garrus lifted his head back with a sigh. “Nice to see you too Sol,” He walked in after her into the apartment; Thane and Saren followed, the door shutting closed right in Saren’s face. He continued forward, passing through the very material without issue. “Working. Classified missions.” 

The Female, Sol, dismissed his answer with a sarcastic click of her mandibles. Saren was familiar with Garrus’s sister by record alone, but he knew his father. The patriarch was already waiting with crossed arms and neutral expression. Being in the same room as another it was easy to see where garrus got his looks. 

The two males stood exactly six feet apart with unmoving stares. Saren knew indifference when he saw it. 

“Dad.” 

“Son.”

Garrus glanced briefly around the room, “Mom?” 

“I’ll go get her.” Solona excused herself towards what seemingly was the master bedroom. Garrus tentatively met his father’s gaze in search for something to talk about. 

“How is she today?” 

The elder dropped his guard to uncross his arms, his mandibles twitching as the only indication of a reaction from the question. “She’s been better,” was all he started with, crossing the room into the kitchen to pour himself a drink; offering a glass to his son, who accepted it. “She still wants to walk the Presidium.” 

The two fell into an awkward silence; next to Saren, Thane coughed into a closed fist. 

“Castis, who is this handsome young man here?” 

Everyone in the room looked to the frail Turian who entered the room, draped in a thick blanket weighing her down to be supported by her own daughter. Unlike her mate, the vakarian matriarch had ochre skin and pale ivory fringe; what surprised Saren the most about the elegant woman was that she was completely barefaced. Castis was a well known high-tier member of the hierarchy, and was even the Executor of C-Sec for several years before entering retirement. For someone of his obvious traditional values to have a bareface as a mate…. 

Garrus tentatively approached her, gripping his glass enough to creak. “Mom. It’s me. Garrus, your son.” 

The thick cloud over her earthy eyes vanished. “Oh, of course I knew that honey.” She broke away from her daughter with a grunt to cup her son’s mandibles. “My- you look well... have you been working out?” 

The Spectre’s mind whirled as garrus sighed before helping her to the dinner table. An adult Turian with lack of motor skills, fatigue, memory issues...Most likely a neurological disease- 

“She has recently returned from a medical facility on Sur'Kesh,” Thane said beside him as they continued to watch the family eat. “Treatments are expensive.” 

Saren looked into the entire family history with Vakarian the youngers' background check before being placed aboard his vessel. The disease must have been a recent development. 

“Do you know what will happen to her?” The family held polite conversation as they ate, Castis Vakarian by his mates’ side helping her with her dish while the siblings threw light verbal jabs at each other. It has been a while since Saren has seen anything so domestic. In his younger years of service under the council he would have dinners with Nihlus and the other spectres. Would it be like this at the Celestial banquet? 

Thane coughed again, his breaths notably wheezier than before. “She doesn't have many years left, maybe months.” 

Saren’s many questions he debated on asking were interrupted by Solona, taking a drink from her cup with a new topic of conversation. “Will you be able to stay tomorrow for Celestial New Years?” 

She was pointedly asking Garrus, who actively avoided looking up from his plate. “No. We depart tomorrow evening.” 

The cup hit the table with a slightly hefty thump. “ _After_ our family dinner right?” 

If a Turian could feel fear, Garrus would have to admit that his own sister could raise it. “No Sol. I won’t be able to have dinner.” 

The silence at the table was telling; the mood shifting into something far less festive.

Finally at the end of the table someone broke the silence. “As if a Spectre would believe in values like family...” Castis huffed. 

“Dad…”

“All that power and you forget about the rest.” Castis took a napkin and wiped at his mate’s mandible. “It makes you careless and dangerous: Saren is the most ruthless of all.” The last part was when he decided to look directly at his son; obviously this was not a new conversation. 

Garrus could feel it too. “I’m not having this argument again dad: I like my job. I’m not a spectre, like _you_ wanted.”

Saren tried not to let his surprise show, especially not to the spirit watching him intently out of the corner of his eye. He was aware that Garrus was in the group pull for possible candidacy, but to his knowledge the Turian had denied the program. 

Castis’s eyes narrowed, sitting back in his seat to fully face the opposite side. His voice dropped to a frightening octave. “Working with one is just as bad Garrus.” 

But Garrus would not back down from his old man even though it looked a losing battle. “He’s not some criminal like you’ve dealt with; he’s helping the galaxy-”

“-Without rules or common virtues he is a criminal, and will turn on us all one day-” 

The voices raised with each attack. Saren almost didn’t hear Thane cugh again; this time for a longer period of time.

Garrus was at his wits end. “He doesn’t need red tape to get results.” 

That struck another cord to the Patriarch, and He growled. “What you call _red tape_ separates us from them.”

“That isn’t all it is.” Saren found himself saying below the now heated argument, feeling silly that he had said it aloud. They were observers here and nothing more. 

Of course he wasn’t quiet enough to be dismissed; Thane had heard and now listened to him with glossy eyes. The Spectre crossed his arms to hide his blush before continuing his defense. “Being a spectre isn’t a game, and it’s hard work. The things we’ve... _I’ve_ had to do…” 

“So the elder is correct: you have no rules.” Thanne wheezed, turning away from the scene, “But your crewmember sees them as ideals for a better galaxy.” 

Saren continued to watch the dinner table: the father and son leaning against their places at the table and out of their seats. Garrus had potential, but he was raw and shapeless, impulsive and seeing everything in black and white- 

Thane’s voice broke through the fog, “Come; this conversation is no longer ours.” 

Pulling himself away, his hands dropped to his sides before turning t follow after the assassin through another portal. With one step his foot fell through and kept going- his body following suit and falling into an open sky high above the ground. 

He held his arms out, attempting to use his biotics to ease the fall, but nothing happened, he was now flying through the air above the wards unassisted. He looked to his left to see the spirit calmly soaring as well. 

Saren grumbled, shooting daggers with his gaze to the drell, but in return he only got a slight smirk and a glint on Thane’s side eye. It might be the blaring neon lights of the station, but the Drell looked far paler than before. Just beneath the sounds of sky cars and citizens, Saren could hear his breathing more thick and labored. 

It sure didn’t stop the Drell from talking. “Why have so much power and influence if we cannot inspire others from it?” He asked as they soared between the buildings. Saren has arrived at the Citadel a hundred times, seen the same ‘breathtaking’ site out of the relay just as many, but there was something about the liberty of flying past the artificial lights and decorations around only once a year. It was.. Interesting to say the least. 

Slightly above him Thane caught sight of Saren’s pondering. “I have lived a long life of taking,” He began again as they rose above a skyscraper, diving down to a new Ward. “The only good thing I ever gave into this galaxy was my son.” His feet pointed to the ground as they began their descent in a less populated sector of various businesses. Saren recognized this place as well, they were near the training facility he and the other Spectres would use when they wanted to get off the presidium. 

They touched down right in front of the entrance door to the very facility he thought of. Thane’s long coat flowing from the rush of air. He put on a good show for one looking suddenly worn and sick, holding the same disciplined posture with his hands relaxed behind his back as he looked to Saren with a pause in his step. “I regret every day not doing more, and yet I try to make up for it.” 

He went inside. And Saren followed.

*****

The familiar sounds of bootless footwork on padded floors, grunts of hand to hand combat, and practice gunfire hit Saren differently than normal. The nostrils of his nose plate inhaling long and deep for the gun polish and copper of the occasional blood stain gave him memories of many torturous training sessions. They were not, however, torturous for him. 

He spent many days and nights here improving himself against other spectres, and then to train his proteges when the council was breathing down his neck at the presidium. It didn’t have the best equipment like at the Spectre headquarters, but it was quiet here. Except for the sounds of combat. 

His bionic arm twitched in a form of disagreement as they walked down the familial halls to the training room. Saren clenched his fist to break the objection. Saren told the voice he had only one more spirit after this one was done, then he could get back to the mission. 

Sovereign took that as a promise.

Thane interrupted his thoughts with another violent cough; Saren turned to see the Drell had fallen behind, his hand lifting to lean against the nearest wall. “My stay upon this life is very brief,” he warned. 

Saren hummed. “Are spirits' lives so short?” 

Thane failed to answer with words, as another body had rounded the corner and passed right through him like it was nothing. Nihlus had arrived at the facility, unaware of the two others in the hallway with him. Mumbling to himself and head low Nihlus marched inside the room, Saren stepping out of his way, trying to get a read on the facial expression he wore, and why his subvocals were so quiet. 

Inside there was a sparring ring set up with mats that were currently in use. Spectre Bau the Salarian was working on hand to hand with another member. 

As they got closer Saren stopped in his tracks: A human was in the ring. Saren growled, it was _that_ human. 

Fiery red fringe pulled up on top her head flowed like a burning flame as she grabbed the incoming fist swinging for her face. Commander Shepard of the Alliance Navy: N7 soldier, and candidate for the Spectres as the first Human admission. He has read her file, regardless of what others thought, but what did it matter? This one was probably just as power hungry as the rest, or unwilling to let the mission come first like her beloved commanding officer _Anderson_. 

Saren looked to the Drell in annoyance, much rather wanting to be anywhere else than here. Thane merely smiled and waved for him to watch. 

It better be good. 

The fight was at its peak, both parties practically dancing around each other with lightning kicks and jabs. Salarians were nimble and could be quick on their feet, and Humans were sluggish and slow, but Shepard seemed to be taking every hit with a form of grace. She advanced on the Spectre yelling with each punch with a rage like a Krogan, but it wasn’t blind wrath- it was somewhat controlled. 

With a sudden glow from her hands and feet Shepard pushed herself up into the air with Biotics, twisting her body and colliding her heel to Bau’s head. 

He was able to block the target with his arms crossed above him, but the force still knocked him to the ground. 

Saren raised a brow plate, not realizing his arms were folded again, nor that he was watching with a critical eye thinking of ways that would benefit her sloppy excuse of fighting- however- a small voice said in his head that was his and his alone: there was potential. 

He at least didn’t admit that aloud. He heard she was a biotic, but the amount of control with her biotics bested the other humans he has seen wield it. 

She bent down and offered a hand to Jondum Bau, who accepted it gladly. Shepard twisted on her heels and walked to the edge of the ring to grab a bottle of water. 

“Where’d you run off to? You left me to the mercy of Spectre Bau.” Nihlus entered the field of vision, his swagger coming to a stop at the edge next to the human, who he towered over by a foot. 

Saren could hear it in his subvocals, he was suppressing his true emotions, opting to go with the charade. Nihlus grinned, “Consider it another test.” 

“Such a cruel test,” She took a gulp of water, sweat dripping down her forehead and neck. With another look Shepard noticed Nihlus’s expression. “Everything okay?”

Bau approached with water of his own, filling the holes of the conversation easily. “Saren isn’t coming tomorrow isn’t he?” With Nihlus’s expression the Salarian Spectre huffed like he expected it, taking another drink. 

Shepard combed her fingers through her scalp, “And it’s my fault isn’t it.” 

Bau took a seat on the mat, adjusting his legs to be as comfortable as a salarian could get on the floor, “Saren never comes to the banquet, yet Nihlus insists on reminding him every year.”

Nihlus shook his head, returning his attention to his candidate. “No he’s just. Different. Stressed out.” 

A loud boisterous feminine laugh echoed the walls as another figure entered from the showers. Tela Vasir was an Asari reaching her Matriarch years, but still could be a pain in everyones’ ass. Saren may or may not also be investigating her, and there’s a chance she knew, hence why she hates his guts. The feeling was mutual. She approached the group having overheard the conversation. “Saren’s been stressed his whole career: I don’t think there’s any other type of Saren. There’s either cranky, or angry and cranky.” She took one look at Nihlu’s face and clicked her tongue in mock pity, “Oh did you actually think he was going to come this year? He always calls it- uh what does he say?” She looked to Bau, already knowing the answer. 

The Salarian continued with the act with a sigh, “And ego booster for the Asari-” 

“-An ego booster for the Asari!” Tela threw her hands up in the air. “Bastard thinks he’s such hot shit, doubt he’s gotten laid since bootcamp.” 

Bau got up from the floor, swiping at the imaginary dirt on his legs. “Untrue, noticed several late nights after ship has docked. Saren going out, coming back smelling like someone else-” 

“-I don’t think we need to know that.” Saren was thankful and had to agree with the human- wait. That wasn’t right. 

But instead of feeding into the conversation, Shepard excused herself and Nihlus for more training, ushering him to the other side of the room at a punching bag while the Asari and the Salarian continued to joke at the absent members expense. 

Shepard motioned for Nihlus to spot her at the punching bag; the maroon Turian complied and stood behind the punching bag, holding it in place while Shepard got into position, raising her fists to eye level and throwing quick jabs into the material. 

“He’s kinda a prick to you, you sure you two are friends?” She asked between grunts.

Saren noted Nihlus’s thinking face, realizing the conversation had changed back to Saren. “I’d die for him.” It was without hesitation, without a single discrepancy, and it was the complete truth. After how Saren had been treating him for years, and just before he came to the training room...

Shepard slowed her punches in thought. That was a lot of trust to place in someone, especially relating to combat. 

She picked up her punches again. “That doesn’t mean he has to be a selfish bigoted asshoe.” She didn’t react to the face Nihlus made at the bluntness. “Charm or not; no one is too busy that they can’t take one evening to relax and be with their friends; especially old ones.” Nihlus motioned for them to switch, his gaze slightly downcast from her words.

“He trained me to be a good Spectre, and I’ve spent more time with him than anyone. He’s put himself under a lot of pressure, and whatever he’s been doing… Well I was hoping coming to Celestial New years Banquet would make him more open minded to some help now and then.” 

Shepard remained silent for the time being, choosing her words carefully. When she spoke up, her voice was the most gentle Saren has ever heard of any human. 

“Even if he pushes everyone away….” She raised her hand to place on top of his shoulder to stop him from continuing, “Don’t give up on him.” 

“What?” Saren’s jaw slacked; what was this human getting at? 

There was no hint of sarcasm or malice, and she held the Turian’s gaze with a soft smile. “I believe we can all get along, if we just tried. If _he_ just tried.” 

Nihlus stated into her face with wonder, before breaking the tone with a chuff. “Your optimism would piss him off the most.” 

They broke away, Shepard giggling into the air. She grabbed her water and offered it to Nihlus as they headed to the locker room. “When’s the last time you went on a mission together?” She asked him casually.

Saren felt the pain in his voice from across the room. “Too long.” 

Behind him was a series of coughs, each one sounding more and more painful, and another portal opened up and swallowed them away. 

*****

Back in the back alley street of the lower ward Saren stumbled on the metal as Thane stood facing away from him, struggling to now stand straight. 

What else could there possibly be to see? Saren was getting annoyed again. 

Then Thane spoke, “You see Celestial New years as a negative attribute.”

“It is a farce.” Saren was tired of repeating himself. “The Galaxy is full of crime, organics continuing to make mistakes, there is no fixing it, especially with some holiday.” 

Thane slowly turned to face him, a look more of a challenge. His eyes were hollow and his skin was dry and molting. He walked down the alleyway and Saren, with no other choice, followed. 

Around the corner a group of tipsy humans began making their way into a shabby crowded bar, one of them bumping into a Turian enjoying a drink- until it spilled all over him. It should have ensued in a fight, but instead the humans apologized purposely, and the Turian clapped the man on the back and took him inside to get each other drinks. 

Saren hasn’t seen anything like that. 

“With a New Year brings new change.” They began to float above the ground and drift through the streets. “‘Organics’ make mistakes, but we can still learn. We can always adapt.” Thane, for the first time since fighting him in his kitchen, placed a hand on his shoulder, “The innocent do not deserve to be victims. You have a choice in that.”

His eyes flashed in warning, his arm tingling again. “What are you talking about?” The Drell knew too much, Saren could hear the warnings more clear now, he would probably have to stop him. His hand twitched for his pistol. 

The Drell had no idea of these thoughts, and continued taking them on a raised tour. 

“When you keep looking so far ahead, you miss what is right in front of you.” And so with a weak wave of his hand Thane took the both of them higher into the air, out of the Citadel, towards the Relay, launching them through lightspeed. 

He showed Saren everything.

On Thessia, families head to the temples to pray to their goddesses. On Palaven Young Turians at boot camp are gathering in the courtyard for a Celestial game of football. Salarians on Sur'kesh work in labs of various experiments, but several sneak gifts to their lab partners beneath the tables. The Volus World, the Quarian Fleet, even Tuchanka people of all species would take a moment to think of others: their family, their friends, their comrades, their coworkers, their clan, their customers. On every other world species even gravitated towards each other, collaboration and compassion Saren has rarely seen echoed in small ripples that seemed to spread. The Spectre swears he has seen the end of time and space, and he had a plan- but this…..

The planets fell from view and Saren was being pulled to the deep video of space surrounded only by stars. He could see his breath in front of him, but he felt no cold. He was weightless, and felt no fear of falling. 

A wet cough echoed in the space around them, the stars began to slowly fade away. Saren twisted his body to seek out Thane, and the second he found him the tips of his boots hit solid nothing. 

Thane stood on an invisible floor with hands clasped in front of him in prayer, eyes downcast, his raspy voice speaking in low tones. He was so frail, so pale, looking on the verge of death itself. His very voice echoed around on all sides despite the lack of breath the Drell still had.

“Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness. Kalahira, wash the sins from this one, and set him on the distant shore of the infinite spirit….” 

The rest faded to blackness, and Saren was alone.


	6. Chapter V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saren comes face to face with the last and final spirit.

It wasn’t long before a new presence was felt somewhere in the void around him. 

There were no footsteps, no immediate noise, but Saren knew someone was there. 

He didn’t arm himself, didn’t blink, and he didn’t even bother with his biotics. “You are the final spirit of what is yet to come.” 

On a beat of silence the Spectre turned to see the void of nothing was gone. He was now on a ship. All he could hear was the hum of the engines, the hallways were organized, but covered with miles of wiring and tall pointed ceilings. 

He could see his breath in front of him. No need for heat, no need for windows. This was not just any ship; this was a Geth Dreadnought.

A single round light flashed on down the hallway through a haze of fog. Slowly it shook back and forth approaching through the shadows; a figure forming in shape whirling of gears and the clicks of facial plates; Saren balked. His plan hadn’t been put in motion yet, he was not supposed to meet with them yet. It was too soon. If anyone saw him with his army he would be incriminated and stripped of status- 

“Arterius Spectre: Saren.” Was all the unit said. 

The outcast race of the Quarians’ creation, unseen outside the Perseus Veil for hundreds of years, machines surpassing the technology of shackled VI’s: the Geth were here. 

This particular Unit however, with a second glance, looked not as clean as the ones Saren has seen through holograms or historical texts of the Quarian Fleet. It had scratches and dents along its Quarian inspired body, seemingly worn out and reassembled several times over, but not enough times to patch the gaping hole it had in its chest. 

Saren shook his head to focus, he still had no idea why he was here. He approached the platform and stood at his full height. “If you have something to show me, then do so.” 

For a moment it stared at him with its cold gaze. The flaps around the bulb (similar to a Turians’ mandibles) raised briefly, but the platform said nothing, and simply turned and started walking.

These must be simply shadows of things that may be… if Saren’s assumptions were correct; there was still a chance this was all nonsense. 

Nonsense can’t explain how anyone knows about the Geth or him and the Geth, or him and Sovereign.

He followed the Geth, his pistol out in the air roaming towards any noise or sense of a trap; for his own piece of mind more than anything. In the dreadnought they were completely alone without another platform in sight. They turned a corner and at the end of a hallway stood another open door with a glowing portal within. The platform with the hole passed through it without looking back. 

Saren stopped, shaking his head as whispers of warning began to swirl from deep within. His arm ached once more. They all said not to follow. It was a distraction. It was to give...doubt.

Doubt of what? Nothing could stray Saren away from his plan to return balance to the galaxy. He was loyal, his mind clear. Although….

The bright light swirled in the doorway with a beckoning call. After everything that has happened, that has been seen, Saren felt an even deeper need to know what this Geth wanted to show him. 

So he shoved away the tingling thoughts, and continued. 

  
  
*****

Through the door came bright unnatural light and booming, echoing voices. That all too familiar smell of recycled air and a hint of floral from the decorating nature. He walked these stairs a thousand times in the council chambers. They were back on the Citadel.

They were standing at the railings up the upper platform overseeing the chambers of a meeting at hand. The Geth unit beside him said nothing to set up the scene, so they stood there and watched the argument below. The council was speaking with a group of humans. 

Councilor Sparatus raised a hand from behind his back to silence the barking of Donald Udina. “Enough! We need to focus on the issue at hand.” 

Udina, face red and balled fists, thre a small tantrum at the council. “You know the issue. Now do something about it! If it was a Turian colony action would already have been taken!”

“Your assumptions are out of bias Ambassador, the fact is you knew the risks when deciding to colonize out of the Traverse.” Tevos strained to keep the peace.

Counselor Valern rested his hands together in front of him, “There is no physical evidence to support your claim of the attack. It was Geth, which will be investigated immediately.” 

Anderson raised his voice, “He murdered Nihlus in cold blood!” 

On the balcony Saren’s blood went cold: what had happened to Nihlus? If anyone had hurt him...

“He never treated him like a friend, it was a lie to catch him off guard!” Shepard pipped in, moving forward to the small catwalk below the council. The woman was bandaged up, a slight limp on her right leg; wherever they had come from was not kind to her.

“Commander Shepard, I suggest for the sake of your mentality and candidacy into the Spectres you keep speculations to yourself.” Sparatus snapped back, “The visions the...dreams, it is nothing worth mentioning, and all of it to accuse our agent of going rogue-” 

The human woman of bravery and impatience stood straight despite her injuries like they weren't even real. “I’ll get your evidence. Then i’m going to bring him in. He needs to pay for the hundreds of thousands he killed on Eden Prime, not just Nihlus.” With intent to kill in her cold set eyes the commander turned away and began down the stairs, two other human lackeys following behind after her. 

The Geth Unit turned out of the blue, and marched through another portal opening behind it. Mandibles twitching in annoyance Saren left the odd situation behind. 

  
  
*****

They were back at the Vakarian apartment.

The decorations and lights from the last visit for Celestial New Years were gone, the apartment now smaller, darker, and very very quiet.

The front door opened, Solona the younger passing through Saren’s shoulder on her way in. She exhaled from a long day at work. Her files were classified until Saren got a hold of them. She had an impressive post with very high tier commanders. She was unbothered, or used to the shadow of the apartment. She looked over to the dark corner of the living room to speak already knowing someone was there. “Nothing. None of my contacts can find him.” 

Saren followed her gaze just as a shadow shifted at a small table. Castis vakarian didn’t look back, but simply nodded, staring down at a holo in his hands. The Spectre moved to stand between the two Vakarians, his ear canals now able to pick up a noise from the far corner. A small, rumbling whine. 

The subvocals of mourning. 

Solona whined a little as well, but not enough for either to be heard by the other. She went to the kitchen to get herself a drink, refusing to look her father’s way. 

Suddenly the silence was broken as Castis’s Omni-Tool began beeping with an incoming call. 

The Turian stared at it, frowned, then after two beats he answered it. 

“Hello?”

“ _Dad_.”

Castis sat up in his chair, putting the holo down on the table; across the room Solona nearly dropped her glass. “Garrus? Is that you? What’s that noise?” Saren knew what that noise was, and he bet so did Castis. What was that boy doing? 

The voice on the other ended was worn, tired, sounding like how the apartment looked, and lost of any light and warmth. “ _Just a little target practice_.”

Castis hummed in both understanding and worry. “Then call me back later.”

His son cut in now ten times older. “ _I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. Too many targets_.”

The pause was only the sound of gunfire. Solona was by the table, wringing her hands together too afraid to approach or speak up, only to listen. Castis kept his tone neutral “…I see.”

“ _I just wanted to hear your voice_ ,” Garrus continued, “ _Wanted to know how retirement was treating you. You good?_ ”

The chair creaked as Castis, holding onto the table for a sort of grounding. “I’m fine. Forget about that.”

The gunfire became more rapid on the other end, a much louder one from whatever Garrus was using. “ _Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. I wanted to say… I’m sorry we butted heads so much._ ”

The father’s manidibles were giving away his fear despite the words he spoke. “I said, forget about that. These targets you’re practicing on – they’re moving fast?”

A gunshot fired from his end again, with more clarity Saren could tell it was that sniper rifle he always carried around. “ _So far, not fast enough. But they’re learning_.”

Where was Saren? Where was the crew? Where was _he_? 

A man in desperation unable to do anything to protect his son in a dangerous situation could only do one thing: try and work it out. “How are your thermal clips?”

Garrus sighed, “ _You know how it is. Could always use a couple more._ ”

Castis straightened his back so rigid he could almost break, “Work with what you’ve got, then. You don’t stop pulling that trigger until it clicks, son. No matter how bad things are falling apart around you, as long as you have at least one bullet left, you can still get the job done. Understand? You finish up what you have to do there, and then you come on home. We have a lot to sort out-”

A roar took over all other noise on the other end, an engine with shouts from what to be assumed was the pilot. Shouting something along the lines of ‘Blue Suns’ and ‘Archangel’. 

Garrus swore right before something exploded. The line crackled, and cut out. 

Castis stared at his Omni-Tool. “Garrus? Garrus!” 

The room began to fade away against Saren’s will, hearing the wails of a mourning family similar to his very own so many years ago. Then there was darkness. 

“Spirit, where was he?” Saren dared to ask. 

The Geth Unit stopped in another void they stood in, turning to face the Spectre unflinchingly. It simply held out ts hand, a hologram of a planet opening to view. Saren squinted at the shape; it wasn’t a planet necessarily. 

“Omega, why Omega?” that cesspool was safe for no one, especially Spectres. The fledgling needed guidance, needed grounding, not just to act on whatever whim. He was bound to piss off someone on that station run by the Pirate Queen.

Saren closed his eyes to think. Trying to put the pieces together. Trying to see what the possible future held. It all came back to ‘why’. 

When he finally opened them, he was face to face with the reason. 

Larger than any hologram he had spoken through before, towers high looming with the red eye as big as a sun, Sovereign stared down at him, making Saren for once feel so small.

It spoke. “You have done well.” 

Saren played along. “What have I done?”

He looks down, his hand on the control panel at the council chambers. Around him the citadel was in flames, ships crashing around him. The Destiny Ascension in smoke. 

He twisted his body to face his army of Geth troopers standing at attention for him. The ground shook beneath them. Down the stairs lay dead bodies: a Krogan, a Quarian, and- 

Shepard. 

Out in space past Sovereign a ring of slipspace emerged from the Relay. Another one, then another appeared in the system. As the numbers increased rapidly, a wash of horror fell upon Saren for the first time in decades. 

The Reapers were here. 

“ _Phase one is complete This cycle is ours once more._ ” Sovereign exclaimed. 

Water from one of the fountains flooded the floor around him, in its reflection he saw not himself, but a monster. So little of him was even left to be recognized, more than half of his face was wiring, his body sprouting tubes in every which way, the glow of his cybernetic eyes stronger than ever before. His silhouette barely held a Turian shape anymore. 

“What did you do to me?” 

A noise he only heard in his nightmares rattled his brain, knocking him to his knees and unable to get up. 

“ _Transformation complete. You obey us_.” 

_Obey_.

Trying to hide his panic he fought to stand to his feet, turning on the Geth, seeking the Spirit with the hole in its chest, “What of the others? Answer me!” 

The Geth Platform, and the other Geth, were no longer alone. The crowd now had more..monsters among them. Spazzy, slimy, decaying cold bodies of the experiments the geth had done to test subjects when impaling them on a spire of Reaper design. A blue glow rippled beneath their skin, their eye sockets glowing without emotion or soul. They were husks of what they used to be. And they were everywhere. 

On the balcony of the chambers a bloodcurdling screech shattered the sound barrier. Another monstrosity unlike Saren has seen floated in the air; its long spindly arms glowing in biotic power as it gave off another horrifying wail. 

Back in front of him Saren more desperately sought the Spirit, who had been standing amongst the gathering crowd silently, now with a piece of red and black armor strapped to its shoulder. The until pointed next to Saren; Saren didn’t even need to turn his whole body to see the next new thing that was standing beside him. 

It was a rotting, morphed, twisted body of what was once a turian. It glowed like the rest of them, lacking a conscience or identity, growling in a need for blood by the Reapers demands. But to Saren’s horror, not just knowing that these things reached Turians too, past the cold shimmy shelling, he could just see into its faded but familiar green eyes, and notice the gaping hole in its head. 

Nihlus. Garrus. Shepard. The Galaxy. 

His knees became weak. “I...I brought them here…” He turned around in circles looking at the scene around him with new eyes. “I doomed the galaxy…” This wasn't at all what Sovereign has promised. They were not being advanced to a higher calling; they were being _absorbed_.

He had little of his own body left to claim: who was he? A man with false power, an army no longer his, never his. Always theirs. Their slaves. Their food.

He once remembered asking himself when realizing the future fate of the galaxy if submission would not be preferred to extinction. He was one Turian, a Spectre, and yet even he felt the weight being pressed ontop his shoulders, something he could not bear alone. So he opted for submission.

But there had to be a way. 

The husks were multiplying in number, all looking at Saren with hungry eyes. The Spectre tried to go for his gun, but his hands would not move. He shouted for the Spirit, though now lost in the crowd. “Why show me this if it's too late. Nothing can be done?” The wails of the corrupted asari soared across the citadel, followed by the nightmarish roar of the reapers descending on the population. 

“What does the consensus say? Tell me it can change! Tell me I can change!”

The whispers. The tingling in the back of his brain was pain now. He couldn’t seem to help himself but listen. Fight it fight it fight it. 

Groaning Saren took grasp of his first ‘improvement’ and ripped his arm right out of its socket. 

“I will honor what the Spirits have showed me!” He aid through gritted teeth. “I will honor Celestial New Year for what it means- Organics are not hopeless!” 

There had to be more time. 

Saren would make more time. 

The lights on Sovereign glowed brighter, “ _You betray us_.” 

“I will not be your tool any longer.” He shouted to the ancient race. “I submit to no one. I am Turian. Saren Arterius: Spectre.”

For Desolas, for the Turian race, and all other races of the galaxy. 

50,000 years will no longer be counted. 

“Your Cycle will come to an end.” 

With the fire of red glow, Sovereign shot a laser from its core right into the Turian, and everything vanished.


	7. Chapter VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saren turns over a new leaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve everyone!

Gasping for air his hands clenched around his desk as he shot up from what suddenly felt like a dream. He caught his breath, realizing he was in his room, his study, sitting in front of his terminal now in sleep mode. With a start he felt his face, turning on the terminal for the camera view. His injured mandible was still there, most of his face was, and his body was mostly normal. Pre-Spirit normal anyway. 

He slumped in his chair to allow the panic to wash away with deep meditated breaths. He flicked his Omni-Tool open to check the time. 

It was the morning of Celestial New Years. He still had time! The Spirits had granted him a chance to fix his mistakes, and to stop the worst one of all. It was still early in the cycle, he had a lot to do. 

He looked once more at his profile on the terminal: The blue glow in his eyes was now more frightening than a comfort or a medal of pride. How could he be so stupid! These so called ‘improvements’ had to go now. 

He rose from his chair and went to the side wall, pulling out a slap that doubled as a medical table. He went into his contacts and made a call while prepping his equipment. 

The contact answered after two rings. 

“Spectre. Been a while. What do you need?” The scientist too seemed to be in the middle of something, then again Mordin always was. 

The Turian went into the secure cabinet for anesthetics and IV’s. “I need you to look into a specific topic of research. I’m sending you coordinates.” He typed in the code to send over. “I’ll fill you in on the way over.” 

*****

“Happy Celestial New Years Mom.” Garrus put down his cup of kava on the dinner table to press his crest to his mother’s. 

She hummed. “Oh thank you Son, and to you too.” She nuzzled her son happily, not knowing much, but glad the family was all together today. 

In the kitchen Solona and Castis were preparing a family breakfast, Solona cracking jokes in an attempt to make her father smile, which she did: she always could. 

The doorbell rang, and Garrus got it at her sister’s and father’s call. 

When he opened the front door the Turian was surprised by a Salarian in a lab coat waiting. He didn’t look like delivery or… anyone he knew. 

Garrus cleared his throat. “Hello?”

The salarian looked up briefly knowing he had his attention. “Good morning. Pardon the early time, was assured you were all up.” He put down the datapand in his one hand to look him straight in the eye. “Was sent here by mutual contact. Mother has Corpalis Syndrome yes?”

Garrus had half a mind to just shoot this odd Salarian, but he didn’t even have the time to consider it. “I don’t-” 

The Salarian pushed his way inside with his large eyes glued to a datapad in one hand and another object in the other. “Am scientist. Doctorates in medicine but specialize in genealogy. Would like to see patient.” He shot up, looking around to zone in on the frail Turian in the chair. “Corpalis Syndrome nasty business. No known cure but am interested in seeing for myself now that I have time.” 

“Who are you? Who sent you?” 

“Ah, my apologies. Mordin Solus. Sent by Mutual contact.” He lifted the box in his hand to continue like this conversation was a planned affair. “Greybox: Human invention actually; came across it in research of similar disease Alzheimer's. Can use this to store memories during treatment.” 

“Treatment?” Both Castis and Solona asked in unison at the edge of the kitchen, still processing their sudden guest. 

Castis turned to his son. “Garrus who is this?” 

Garrus heard the answer but his brain wouldn’t keep up. “He’s uh-”

The Salarian answered for him bluntly, “Mutual contact.” He pattered over to the Turian woman like she was one of his patients. “Hello Mrs. Vakarian.” 

She gave him a polite smile, the least bothered person of the scene at hand. “Hello, are you my doctor?” 

Mordin tapped a few things on his datapad. “Temporarily, can you hold this for a second?”

Throughout the small chaos Garrus’s Omni-Tool started to ring: It was Saren. And the family could tell from how he stared at the ID code. 

Solona balked. “Garrus are you serious?” 

He waved her away with a sigh. “Just- give me a second.” He answered the call. “YesSir.”

“ _ Garrus, I understand you’ve met Professor Solus. I need you to listen to me very carefully. _ ” 

He tried to remain collected, but his disappointment started to show. He knew that tone of voice. “Sir, I thought we were departing later?” Garrus avoided looking anywhere near his family, looking at the scientist was much easier. 

“ _ The departure is postponed. You will have the week off while I prepare for another mission of higher priority. But I ask for your appearance tonight after your family dinner. _ ” 

“How did you?-”

“ _ I will explain later. We have a banquet to attend tonight. _ ”

garrus ‘s eyes widened, “You mean- you mean the Celestial Banquet?” That was the most prestigious formal event of the year, he couldn’t even get guard duty at that event working in C-Sec. 

On the other end something that sounded like machinery whirled in startup. “ _ Correct. I will meet you there. Wear something other than your armor Vakarian. I’m sure you can figure it out. _ ”

Solona snickered, cut off by the look her brother gave her. He turned his back to his family to look at the Omni-Tool with new curiosity, but whatever the Spectre wanted, he’d do it. “Ok... what will you do?”

“ _ I have something to take care of. Do not be late, it would be a bad impression on me if my apprentice was tardy _ .” 

That got Garrus’s mandibles to drop slack. Did he just hear that right? Was Saren ok? “A-apprentice?” This couldn’t be happening. His dream has been to become a Spectre, he thought working with one was enough but this was beyond unexpected. Maybe it was some sort of a Celestial New years’ miracle. That was the only thing that could explain his boss’ odd behavior. 

_ “Yes. Garrus you have proven yourself more than capable of serving among my crew. I want your candidacy for the Spectres. But I will explain everything later. Mr Vakarian: should you have any protests we can speak privately at another time, but I think you can agree your son has much potential to be what the galaxy needs. _ ” 

There was a pause of complete silence in the room whatever the Spectre had been working on at his end stopped as well. “ _ And... Happy Celestial New Years. _ ”

He clicked off before anyone could respond. The Vakarians all staring at each other in a mix of astonishment and...great uncertainty of what just happened. At the table Mordin hummed quietly to himself, unbothered by the strange change the ruthless Spectre had gone through. 

  
  


In his study, Saren lay on the operating table feeling his body get heavier and heavier from the sedative. The VI robotics prepped with scalpels, the cooler in the corner currently growing extra plates and nerve muscles for implantation. He wouldn’t be able to change everything now, but he could get a headstart. 

Before losing consciousness he made sure to have his personal stylist on the Citadel ready with his formal attire, and blacked out to the whirling of a plate saw.

*****

“Saren?” Nihlus stood frozen, agape, a drink in his hand. “You  _ came _ .” 

Saren donned his long shoulder cloak and his charcoal fitted suit that looked a thousand times better without all the bulky tubes sticking out of his chest or wrapped around his arm. He felt lighter than he has in years, probably even living in his armor for the last one alone. He couldn’t see heat signatures, or coded information of nearby terminals, but he could see with his eyes and his alone. The decorations and lights in the grand ballroom looked...nice.

The guests were clumped in groups all around the banquet in their most lavish gowns and suits. Servers paraded around with trays of warm cocktail foods. On the dance floor other guests in pairs were gliding across the glossy floor as a small Salarian band played on a small stage. Saren hasn’t danced in a long time, and a part of him felt in spirits to give it a try tonight. 

“Nihlus.” He stopped short upon his old friend, who was too stunned for words. “Happy Celestial New Years my friend,” He said instead to fill the space, unsure what else to do or say in apology for the years of abuse he has bestowed him. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Saren?” He asked in a serious tone. Saren shook his head with a chuckle. 

“It’s me Nihlus. I’ve come to a few realizations as of recent. If you’d allow me, I’d like to meet your protege…” He swallowed after rushing the last words. This new approach of things was going to take some getting used to, but he didn’t hate it. Nihlus didn’t turn him away, didn’t say he was crazy or too late. In fact Nihlus smiled so wide Saren thought his mandibles would crack. 

“Saren..” He began with a sort of pride, but the sentence fell short as they both noticed a smaller figure sliding into the circle. 

Seeing her from afar, in vids, in Spiritual adventures was one thing, but they did not amount to the radiating strength and defense of her aura in person. The commanding officer of the alliance navy wore a long royal blue dress. The fire ontop her head tamed in some sort of gathered ball. Her striking green eyes similar to Nihlus’ bore into his with interest and reservation. 

“Saren,” He waved his hand to the woman, “Saren, this is Jane Shepard, my protege. Future Human Spectre. Shepard, my mentor and old friend Saren Arterius.”

The woman lowered her glass from her red lips, giving the Turian an inspection of a once over, probably looking for deceit or mistrust. “Spectre.” She nodded, in light to use his title as a safe formality. 

It took less effort than he thought to nod back. “Shepard.” He greeted both to their surprise. He shifted where he stood awkwardly before clearing his throat. “I wish to apologize for what I have said of you Shepard. You have obviously worked hard to be here today.” he looked to Nihlus, “And if Nihlus sees the potential in you, as I have taught him, then his judgement is partially my own.” 

The walls on her face broke down to a smile he had seen her give to Nihlus in training. “Apology accepted Spectre. I appreciate that. I want nothing more than to prove myself.” 

“Then that can be arranged.” He looked back to Nihlus. “I have a mission.” He noted the joy on Nihlu’s face fall just the slightest. “-a different one that needs my attention sooner than I thought.” He gestures between the two of them. “After the festivities of this holiday: I would...prefer to have a secondary team accompany me.” 

Nihlus’s eyes were about to pop out of his head from the last two minutes of his life. “You want us?...Us to…?” 

“We’re in. Whatever you need.” Shepard lightly slapped her mentor’s arm to knock him out of his bewilderment.

Saren folded his hands together behind his back allowing Nihlus a chance to take a drink to calm his excitement or nervousness or...shock he supposed. “This would be a good opportunity to properly evaluate the candidates on the field.”

Nihlus spit out his drink, coughing into a fist. Shepard patted his cowl in an attempt to help. “Candida _ tes _ ?” 

Saren turned his head, scanning the horizons of the room before stopping at the direction of a major entrance. “Slightly behind, but there he is.” 

Nihlus was still coughing. “Who?” 

Saren waved over a light grey Turian with blue Palevinni markings in a sleek suit slightly too big for him. Past his unique visor over one eye he approached with a sort of apprehension, like he didn’t feel he could fit in. “Sorry about that, I uh- had to borrow my dad’s.” 

Saren took a step back and introduced him to the group. “Nihlus, Shepard. This is my nomination, Garrus Vakarian.” 

He nodded his head politely, shaking congratulations with Nihlus before hesitating by Shepard. She offered her hand in kind, holding his for a moment longer than normal. They locked eyes, saying absolutely nothing until her face turned a slight shade of pink before pulling away with a smile. 

She hid behind her drink in hand. “I guess we’re both on the chopping block.” 

Garrus caught a bit of his confidence and smirked, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Don’t worry. I’m told I make great conversation.” 

They smiled at each other: a spark igniting between them. 

Nihlus wanted to ask a thousand questions, but they were interrupted by the chime of food being served. 

The other Spectres couldn’t believe he had shown up, the council believed grounding him is what did the trick to finally get him here. All the guests stared at the Turian, who went from snapping at them to taking Shepard- a human- on the dance floor for a traditional Celestial dance,in shock. Some wondered if he had lost his mind, but Saren knew he didn’t. In fact, he had saved himself from doing so like Rix predicted. He laughed long and hard with Nihlus sharing old mission stories late into the night of the banquet. 

It turned out to be a great Celestial New Year.

**  
  
**

*****

In a few months, Garrus Vakarian would receive a call from his father that due to an anonymous donation his mother will be on the road to a recovery for a long life. Before that himself, Saren, Nihlus and Shepard traveled across the galaxy for the Turian's special top secret mission as one cohesive team of Spectres. The whispers tried to reach him dozens of times, eventually his resistance to the sirens call of the Reapers made him a target. 

The Reapers were real, his visits by the Spirits waking him from his trance, and his new team- his friends, they could rally the galaxy to stop them.

**  
  
**

They were ready within a year. 

Jane Shepard proved herself in all the tales told, sharing her culture with a new open mind of his own. As they traveled the dark space glittering with stars anew they celebrated the Celestial New Years with new hope. As their multi-race crew got larger and larger, upgrading to the human-turian joint operated ship the _Normandy_ , they shared an alliance mantra Jane would shout above their heads. 

“Who’s like us!”

“Damned few!” Everyone called back. 

“Happy Celestial New Years everyone. Now-” Jane cocked her gun at her side, “Let’s go kill some reapers.”

****  
  


**The End**


	8. SCENE I: Saren in his Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas my friends!
> 
> (Forgive the spam updates as I post the Playscript.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: 
> 
> Saren Arterius  
> Garrus Vakarian  
> Nihlus Kryk   
> Councilor Tevos  
> Councilor Sparatus  
> Councilor Valern

( _ The Citadel is bustling with holiday activity on the eve of Celestial New Years. SAREN is traveling down the streets actively disgusted by the surrounding joy. Some people do not watch where they are going and almost bump into him. Because of his terrifying appearance most people stay clear. He reaches the docking bay and goes up the ramp to decontamination _ ) 

( _ SAREN enters his ship. Crewmembers stare at him before returning to work. He approaches the CIC where GARRUS is standing finishing reports on a datapad _ ) 

SAREN: Report.

GARRUS: You know, I thought leaving C-Sec meant less paperwork.

SAREN: ( _ Moving to the CIC terminal, not looking at him _ ) You are welcome to go back.

GARRUS: ( _ Humming _ ) Wouldn’t dad just love that. Spectre, permission to speak?

Saren shot him a look as an answer to continue. 

GARRUS: The girl is all good to go but… ( _ pause _ ) We are being blocked by security from leaving. It seems we’re grounded. It might have something to do with events with the Celestial New Year.

( _ beat _ ) 

Which would probably be why my sister won’t stop messaging me asking when I'm coming home...-and I can only take so many transmissions.

SAREN: Your sister should know you work for a council spectre. My work takes priority over some ridiculous holiday.

GARRUS: Of course, but-

SAREN: Do you think batarian slavers care about holidays? Or the Blood Pack? Or the Blue suns? Or Red Sand dealers? In the grand scheme of things my work outweighs all else. They should understand that. Celestial New Year is a waste of time.

GARRUS: Yes Spectre. Speaking of the Council, there’s a call for you.

SAREN: I’ll take it in my quarters. Deal with C-SEC. I want us cleared to depart. ( _ Turns and stomps to the elevator to his quarters _ ) 

GARRUS: ( _ under his breath _ ) Great, more red tape... 

( _ SAREN enters his quarters and sits at his desk, answering the call on his terminal. COUNCILORS SPARATUS, VALERN, and TEVOS appear in hologram form _ ) 

TEVOS: Spectre. We were informed of your intended departure; we have given you no immediate assignments.

SAREN: If you recall I requested any assignment. High priority or not.

SPARATUS: We collectively agreed on this eve of Celestial New Years that you are to take an extended break.

SAREN: ( _ eyes narrowing _ ) You grounded me?

TEVOS: Your duties can hold for another week or so. As our top agent we want to take the time to appreciate what the Spectres do. The Celestial Banquet tomorrow evening is our largest gathering of the year for celebration of the discovery of the Citadel. Not that I expect you to know since you’ve never attended the event.

SAREN: I know of the day. It is a ridiculous notion to bolster the egos of the population that passing time is a good thing. Celestial New Years is foolhardy; a mask over the dirt and grime in the Terminus Systems. False hope and optimism.

TEVOS: Celestial New Years? False hope? 

SAREN: It also pampers the swelling pride of the Asari, since they were the ones who made the day.

VALERN: Truth is it will look bad on us if you do not attend. We do not make you work this hard.

SAREN: I work for you, but what I do in my spare time is my own.

SPARATUS: It would be nice for you to make an appearance and perhaps meet with our newest applicant.

SAREN: No. You are making a grave mistake by allowing it.

SPARATUS: We allow Spectre Kryik to go ahead with his evaluation. As the most  _ decorated agent _ , we trust his judgement.

TEVOS: You have no choice Spectre. We hope to see you tomorrow. And Happy Celestial New Years.

( _ SAREN growls, and hangs up on them _ ) 

( _ In bubbling rage SAREN grabs a spare Omni-Tool part on his desk and throws it across the room. After a few beats the door opens and NIHLUS enters his room _ )

NIHLUS: ( _ leaning against doorway casually, seeing the destruction around him _ ) Saren; I knew I would find you here.

SAREN: This is my ship Nihlus.

NIHLUS: ( _ entering _ ) Well Vakarian told me you were in a mood, and your little display tells me you got grounded.

SAREN: And I'm assuming you had something to do with it.

NIHLUS: ( _ feigning offense _ ) Of course not, but I can’t say I tried to stop them. There I am about to ask you when you’re arriving tomorrow, but then I hear you were leaving?

SAREN: I had a mission Nihlus. 

NIHLUS: Not urgent enough for the council to chain you here. ( _ beat _ ) Saren you’ve wiped out half the Blue Suns within a week, whatever it is you were planning could wait another day. 

( _ SAREN doesn’t answer, choosing to clean the broken pieces off the floor. _ ) 

( _ beat _ )

NIHLUS: You've been avoiding me.

SAREN: ( _ tosses broken pieces on his desk _ ) I am not avoiding you.

NIHLUS: Fine. you’re avoiding my protege and by extension me. Who I think you would like.

SAREN: It’s a filthy human. Blight of the galaxy and you lower yourself by thinking-

NIHLUS: -Saren your racism serves as nothing but annoyance. Even if she’s a problem I want to spend time with my oldest friend. The council is paying for the entire thing. And let your crew take some real time off. Not everyone is a machine like you.

SAREN: Get out.

NIHLUS: Fine, Spirits knows I can’t get to you when you’re like this.

( _ NIHLUS leaves _ )

( _ SAREN contemplates what to do now in his spare time, deciding to return to his apartment to work. With the excitement of the holiday he would take his ship and crew and leave before the banquet. SAREN leaves, passing through the CIC where GARRUS is still working _ )

SAREN: Vakarian. We leave tomorrow at 2100. You are dismissed for the next twenty hours. Do not even think about being late.

( _ GARRUS nods but says nothing _ ) 


	9. SCENE II: Saren Goes Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: 
> 
> Saren Arterius  
> Avitus Rix

( _ SAREN returns to his dark quiet apartment. His hand hovers over his sidearm subconsciously, eyes darting around the corners. He cooked himself some dinner and began working at his desk for several hours. He uncovers a sheet on his desk to reveal a prothean artifact he has been studying. _ )

( _ Hours later deep in the night SAREN puts the artifact back, turns off histerminal and gets up to retire for the night _ )

( _ The lights in the room flicker _ ) 

( _ SAREN stops to look, after a beat he goes to leave and the lights flicker again before going out completely _ ) 

SAREN: ( _ Grumbling _ ) Inadequate maintenance...

( _ His terminal flashes back on in a green glow _ ) 

( _ SAREN approaches the terminal to try and turn it off again. Nothing happens _ ) 

( _ An explosion of green sends him to the floor. A hologram of AVITUS RIX appears towering over him _ ) 

SAREN: What is this?

RIX: ( _ crosses his arms over his chest _ ) Saren. Good to see you again. 

SAREN: ( _ gets to his feet _ ) Who are you?

RIX: ( _ chuckles _ ) I guess 15 years wasn’t enough.

SAREN: 15 years is the same to anyone else I know.

RIX: In the Terminus you knew me as your apprentice: Avitus Rix. Council Spectre.

SAREN: I thought you left for the initiative.

RIX: I did.

SARE: Impossible. You should be in Cryo.

RIX: I am not here to discuss myself Spectre.

SAREN: Then why are you here?

( _ beat _ )

RIX: You’ve changed. The Saren I know is Ruthless.

SAREN: I am.

RIX: Sure, but now I think it's beyond that.

SAREN: What are you saying?

RIX: ( _ steps down from the table to be level with SAREN _ ) Spectres are prone to going crazy for what we deal with. ( _ He slowly circles SAREN _ ) Everyone has their breaking point Saren, I think you’re reaching yours.

( _ SAREN attempts to punch RIX, but his fist passes through him _ )

RIX: ( _ lowering his voice) _ Either deal with it or get out while you can.

_ (SAREN attempts to punch him again. RIX blinks out of the way back on the desk. SAREN begins ripping apart the terminal cords)  _

SAREN: You’re not real. I’ve been working too hard, or this is a test from Sovereign for where my loyalties lie.

_ (SAREN tries to hack the terminal with his Omni-Tool to shut it off. Nothing is working)  _

RIX: That’s the problem Saren. ( _ beat _ ) This is a warning. Tonight you will be visited by three spirits.

SAREN: ( _ typing _ ) Humor was always a crutch of yours.

_ (RIX waves his hand and SAREN’s Omni-Tool shuts down)  _

__

RIX: Expect the first within the hour. The second at the next hour, and the third shall appear thereafter as the cycle turns on the eve of Celestial New years.

__

SAREN: ( _flaring biotics_ ) Whoever you are, whatever you are, you will not deter me. You will certainly not lecture me. 

RIX: Saren this bigger than you and me. You are going down a dark path-

SAREN: And Celestial New Year is supposed to be some answer? If I am to have visitors they should all come at once.

RIX: Find your Initiative Saren. For all our sakes.

__

_ (There is an explosion of green leaving SAREN in complete darkness. None of his devices are working)  _

__

SAREN: ( _to himself_ ) Nonsense.

__

_ (SAREN goes to bed)  _


	10. SCENE III: The Spirit of Celestial Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: 
> 
> Saren Arterius  
> Liara T’Soni  
> Young Saren  
> Young Desolas  
> Turian Officer  
> Desolas Arterius  
> Soldier Saren  
> Commander Vyrnnus  
> Lieutenant Abrudas

_ (After laying in bed for who knows how long, he feels a presence in his room. SAREN whips out his concealed pistol to aim at the intruder)  _

SAREN: You should know I do not take well to intruders. In fact your lifespan shortened immensely.

LIARA: Hello Saren Arterius. This won’t take too long.

SAREN: I should hope it doesn’t.

LIARA: My name is Liara T’soni. I have things to show you of your Celestial New years past.

SAREN: I will be shown nothing. Do nothing with you and your tricks. Leave now or face my wrath.

LIARA: ( _frowning_ ) I’m afraid that is not an option.

_ (Liara touches the hand holding his gun, and light takes them away)  _

_ (They appear on Palaven in front of an old clan estate building, now seemingly abandoned)  _

SAREN: _(to himself_ ) It can’t be...

LIARA: There are no lights on at your house. _(SAREN snaps his head to her)_ Your parents were killed months prior to this.

SAREN: _(steps towards her)_ How do you know that?” 

LIARA: I am very good at knowing things, Spectre. I also know your family was outcast by your clan, and following your parents’ deaths young Desolas had to raise you alone.

_ (around the corner of the house YOUNG DESOLAS runs into view)  _

YOUNG DESOLAS: Come on Saren keep up!

SAREN: Impossible…My brother…

_ (Enter YOUNG SAREN chasing his older brother)  _

YOUNG SAREN: I will get you this time!

(In the distance above a nearby town fireworks erupt in the sky signaling Celestial New Years)

LIARA: You were alone in this house for months.

SAREN: ( _watching his younger self_ ) My parents were nobodies. The Hierarchy didn’t even know they were dead. My brother took responsibility for me and the estate.

LIARA: But he couldn’t.

_ (a skycar approaches the estate. SAREN frowns remembering. Two Turian officers exit and approach the house.  _

OFFICER: Are you Desolas Arterius? 

YOUNG DESOLAS: _(shielding YOUNG SAREN)_ Who’s asking?

OFFICER: We are from Social Services. We understand you are here alone. We have come to relocate you. 

_ (YOUNG SAREN’s biotics flare, startling the officers)  _

SAREN: I was untrained. And that was dangerous to the Turian Hierarchy.

OFFICER: Are you biotic? _(YOUNG SAREN doen’t answer_ ) Answer me pup!

YOUNG DESOLAS: He is, we both are. (YOUNG DESOLAS flares his biotics) If you want him you have to go through me!

YOUNG SAREN: Desolas...

OFFICER: All biotics are to be registered and set up for immediate Cabal training.

YOUNG DESOLAS: There’s nothing wrong with us! It’s Celestial New Year… Can’t we do this tomorrow? 

_ (SAREN turns away from the scene)  _

LIARA: What bothers you?

SAREN: We celebrated the holiday every year. When we were left alone, it was one of the few things we still could have.

_ (SAREN turns back to watch the officers lead the two young turians to the skycar)  _

YOUNG DESOLAS: _(wrapping an arm around his brothers shoulder_ ) Don’t worry brother, long as we’re together. We’ll be great soldiers! You’ll see.

LIARA: Come, there is more to see.

_ (As the skycar drives away LIARA whisks herself and SAREN away)  _

_ (They appear in the middle of a battlefield in the midst of the Relay incident)  _

DESOLAS: Alpha take the left! We’ll surround them!

_ (SAREN gets up, missiles and debris flying everywhere, but leaving them untouched)  _

LIARA: We are but ghosts here. We are safe, as well as unseen and unheard.

(SAREN and LIARA approach a Turian camp commanded by General DESOLAS. DESOLAS lowers his binoculars, turns and clamps his hand over SOLDIER SAREN’s shoulder) 

DESOLAS: I want you to lead the squad.

SOLDIER SAREN: What? me?

DESOLAS: ( _laughing_ ) I know you can do it Saren. I trust no one else.

LIARA: You climbed the ranks in those three months. Your own command. 

SAREN: He had his own platoon. Barefaces like me could fight without prejudice. 

DESOLAS: (turning to face other soldiers) . Commander Vyrnnus, Lieutenant Abrudas: You’re with Saren.

_ (VYRNNUS ABRUDAS enter and jump up on the platform)  _

BOTH: Yes general.

SAREN: Vyrnnus. Abrudas. My...allies.

ABRUDAS: One speech before we go general. _(Motions to SOLDIER SAREN)_ Give our brother a good sendoff.

LIARA: ( _To SAREN)_ You were closer than that.

SAREN: Serving with them was the best time of my life. Vyrnnus tutored us in biotics; and taught us all we needed to know not only to survive in a galaxy where your own people would never trust you, but to make them respect you. He was a valued asset.

LIARA: An asset? Was that all?

SAREN: ( _bluntly_ ) Yes. That is all they were.

DESOLAS: _(handing off binoculars to another soldier)_ Very well.

_ (soldiers gather around below)  _

We have the Humans cornered, their main base surrounded. Now it is time to pounce. And their General Williams will surrender to us.

_ (soldiers cheer in agreement)  _

We are Turian! Our people will show them!

EVERYONE: Even to our dying breath!

DESOLAS: So long as one of us stands in the end, we are victorious!

VYRNNUS: A good human is a dead one! _(everyone cheering and roaring in agreement)_

(VYRNNUS, ABRUDAS, and SOLDIER SAREN exit) 

LIARA: Commander Vyrrnus moved on after the war contracted by the Hierarchy. A biotic school.

SAREN: ( _scowling_ ) A human killed him.

LIARA: Are all humans as terrible as you believe?

SAREN: Yes. They showed up demanding everything they had not yet earned. Greed is their creed.

LIARA: Why did you stop celebrating Celestial new years? 

SAREN: Your questions have no point. I grew up. I had responsibility.

LIARA: Yes, but it seemed like you could have both. And if they could accept you for being barefaced, why could you not chance on others?

SAREN: Humans are not the same, Asari.

( _beat_ ) 

LIARA: There is one more stop.

SAREN: Fine. Just get this over with. 

_ (They appear back on a hilly area of Palaven at the temple. SAREN recognizes this place in horror)  _

LIARA: The Hierarchy has no files of this event. They were redacted for a few weeks before being completely erased.

SAREN: How do you know! (In anger he grabs her by the throat and lifts her in the air) Answer me!

_ (the scene around them changed without his knowledge to inside the temple, and DESOLAS, surrounded by his indoctrinated cult, appears)  _

DESOLAS: Saren.

_ (SAREN releases LIARA and turns to see DESOLAS speaking to SOLDIER SAREN as a new Spectre)  _

SAREN: ( _shaking his head in disbelief)_ No.

DESOLAS: ( _now indoctrinated, to SOLDIER SAREN_ ) My brother, join me. We can do this. It’s always been you and me.

SOLDIER SAREN: You’re compromised Desolas. 

SAREN: ( _turns to LIARA)_ Stop this. Now.

LIARA: _(shakes her head)_ It is the past. It cannot be changed. It cannot be stopped. 

SAREN: _(flaring his biotics)_ I will not see this again. 

LIARA: _(flares her biotics)_ You have no choice.

_ (They fight, while DESOLAS and SOLDIER SAREN also fight)  _

_ (SAREN and LIARA teleport back on the hills outside the temple)  _

_ (suddenly the ground begins to shake, stopping them from combat. SAREN turns and watches the temple be destroyed by a Turan cruizer by SOLDIER SAREN’s command as he flies away)  _

_ (SAREN attacks LIARA again in anger. They fight. In the end he is stronger and defeats her)  _


	11. SCENE IV: The Spirit of Celestial Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: 
> 
> Saren Arterius  
> Thane Krios  
> Garrus vakarian  
> Castis Vakarian  
> Mrs. Vakarian  
> Solona Vakarian  
> Nihlus Kryk   
> Jane Shepard  
> Jondan Bau  
> Tela Vasir

_ (SAREN falls to the floor from his ceiling in his study. He stands up and wanders to the kitchen where he realizes someone is there. In the kitchen sitting at the table is THANE with a cup of tea.) _

THANE: As killers we take much for granted. The measure of the individual can be difficult to discern by actions alone.

_ (SAREN attacks THANE. They fight, THANE easily blocks all of his attacks. THANE backs away)  _

THANE: Your skills are impressive, and I have fought many Spectres before.

SAREN: You will fail this time, with any foul play you behold for me.

THANE: Fail? Not with this Spectre. Walk with me, see the universe as it is.

SAREN: I will not continue this joke. You’ll have to die trying to make me follow you.

THANE: How Petulant the great Spectre can be. If I had wanted to kill you, I would have already done it.

( _beat_ )

SAREN: Then tell me your name.

_ (THANE steps towards him standing next to SAREN but looking ahead, a portal opening)  _

THANE: Thane Krios.

_ (through the portal they appear on the streets of the citadel. Invisible to everyone around them. SAREN followed THANE)  _

  
  


SAREN: What are we doing here?

_ (They go down an alleyway and pass by a Keeper, decorated by civilians for Celestial New Years)  _

THANE: This is very... festive isn’t it?

SAREN: The Keepers are celebrated with the holiday.

THANE: The discovery of the Citadel, and then the council, marks a new future in harmony. The Keepers were here from the start, they maintain the station all walks of life are welcome to live on.

SAREN: They are Keepers, they do not need to be celebrated, they cannot be touched. This is a selfish holiday to boost egos. They do not understand.

THANE: Understand what exactly?”

_ (SAREN freezes, unable to answer. Thane gestures to an apartment complex)  _

THANE: This is our stop.

_ (They enter the apartment and go up the stairs to see GARRUS in front of his door)  _

SAREN: Vakarian.

_ (GARRUS knocks on the door uncertainly. SOLONA opens the door)  _

SOLONA: Garrus. _(goes for a hug, then punches him in the arm)_ Didn’t think to give us a call once and a while? Where have you been?

GARRUS: Nice to see you too Sol _(enters apartment. SAREN and THANE follow)_ Working. Classified missions.

_ (GARRUS sees his father CASTIS waiting for him)  _

GARRUS: Dad. 

CASTIS: Son.

GARRUS: (looks around the room) Mom? 

SOLONA: I’ll go get her. ( _exits_ )

( _beat_ )

GARRUS: How is she today?

CASTIS: ( _crosses into the kitchen to get himself a drink)_ She’s been better. She still wants to walk the Presidium.

_ (awkward silence)  _

_ (THANE coughs)  _

MRS VAKARIAN: Castis, who is this handsome young man here?

GARRUS: Mom. It’s me. Garrus, your son.

MRS VAKARIAN: Oh, of course I knew that honey. ( _cups his mandibles_ ) My- you look well... have you been working out?

_ (the Vakarian family sits down for dinner)  _

THANE: ( _to SAREN)_ She has recently returned from a medical facility on Sur'Kesh. Treatments are expensive.

SAREN: Do you know what will happen to her?

THANE: _(coughs again_ ) She doesn't have many years left, maybe months.

SOLONA: _(at the table)_ Will you be able to stay tomorrow for Celestial New Years? 

GARRUS: No. We depart tomorrow evening. 

SOLONA: After our family dinner right?

GARRUS: No Sol. I won’t be able to have dinner.

CASTIS: As if a Spectre would believe in values like family...

SOLONA: Dad…

CASTIS: All that power and you forget about the rest. It makes you careless and dangerous: Saren is the most ruthless of all.

GARRUS: I’m not having this argument again dad: I like my job. I’m not a spectre, like you wanted.

CASTIS: Working with one is just as bad Garrus.

GARRUS: He’s not some criminal like you’ve dealt with; he’s helping the galaxy-

CASTIS: -Without rules or common virtues he is a criminal, and will turn on us all one day-

_ (THANE coughs)  _

GARRUS: He doesn’t need red tape to get results.

CASTIS: What you call red tape separates us from them.

SAREN: That isn’t all it is. (beat) Being a spectre isn’t a game, and it’s hard work. The things we’ve... I’ve had to do…

THANE: So the elder is correct: you have no rules. ( _turns_ ) But your crewmember sees them as ideals for a better galaxy. Come; this conversation is no longer ours.

_ (They go through the portal and are now flying above the wards of the Citadel)  _

THANE: Why have so much power and influence if we cannot inspire others from it? I have lived a long life of taking. The only good thing I ever gave into this galaxy was my son.

_ (They land in front of a training facility SAREN is familiar with for Spectre training)  _

I regret every day not doing more, and yet I try to make up for it. 

_ (they enter. THANE coughs. SAREN turns to see him leaving heavily against the wall, wheezing)  _

THANE: My stay upon this life is very brief.

SAREN: Are spirits' lives so short?

_ (NIHLUS enters. SAREN and THANE follow him into the gym area where SHEPARD is training with JONDAM BAU. Their fight impresses even SAREN. SHEPARD wins, offering a hand to help him up, then goes over to grab some water, noticing NIHLUS)  _

SHEPARD: Where’d you run off to? You left me to the mercy of Spectre Bau.

NIHLUS: Consider it another test.

SHEPARD: Such a cruel test. _(drinks water, notices NIHLUS’s face_ ) Everything okay?

BAU: ( _approaches_ ) Saren isn’t coming tomorrow isn’t he?

SHEPARD: And it’s my fault isn’t it.

BAU: (sitting on the floor wit water of his own) Saren never comes to the banquet, yet Nihlus insists on reminding him every year.

NIHLUS: ( _shaking his head)_ “No he’s just. Different. Stressed out.

_ (enter TELA VASIR laughing loudly)  _

VASIR: Saren’s been stressed his whole career: I don’t think there’s any other type of Saren. There’s either cranky, or angry and cranky. _(clicks her tongue at NIHLUS)_ Oh did you actually think he was going to come this year? He always calls it- uh what does he say?

BAU: And ego booster for the Asari-

VASIR: -An ego booster for the Asari! Bastard thinks he’s such hot shit, doubt he’s gotten laid since bootcamp.

BAU: Untrue, noticed several late nights after ship has docked. Saren going out, coming back smelling like someone else-

SHEPARD: -I don’t think we need to know that. _(ushering NIHLUS to the other side of the room, motioning for him to hold the punching bag for her)_ He’s kinda a prick to you, you sure you two are friends?

NIHLUS: I’d die for him.

_ (SHEPARD pauses)  _

SHEPARD: That doesn’t mean he has to be a selfish bigoted asshole. Charm or not; no one is too busy that they can’t take one evening to relax and be with their friends; especially old ones.

(they swap) 

NIHLUS: He trained me to be a good Spectre, and I’ve spent more time with him than anyone. He’s put himself under a lot of pressure, and whatever he’s been doing… Well I was hoping coming to Celestial New years Banquet would make him more open minded to some help now and then.

SHEPARD: Even if he pushes everyone away….Don’t give up on him.

SAREN: What?

SHEPARD: I believe we can all get along, if we just tried. If he just tried.

NIHLUS: Your optimism would piss him off the most.

_ (SHEPARD LAUGHS, they break off and head to the locker room) _

SHEPARD: When’s the last time you went on a mission together?

NIHLUS: ( _sadly_ ) Too long. 

_ (THANE coughs, and a portal opens up and takes him and SAREN away back tot he streets of the lower wards)  _

THANE: You see Celestial New years as a negative attribute.

SAREN: It is a farce. The Galaxy is full of crime, organics continuing to make mistakes, there is no fixing it, especially with some holiday.

_ (Around the corner a group of tipsy humans began making their way into a shabby crowded bar, one of them bumping into a Turian enjoying a drink- until it spilled all over him. It should have ensued in a fight, but instead the humans apologized purposely, and the Turian clapped the man on the back and took him inside to get each other drinks.) _

THANE: With a New Year brings new change. Organics’ make mistakes, but we can still learn. We can always adapt. The innocent do not deserve to be victims. You have a choice in that.

SAREN: What are you talking about?

THANE: When you keep looking so far ahead, you miss what is right in front of you.

_ (THANE whisks them into the air again and travel around the galaxy seeing all species on Celestial New Years celebration)  _

_ (On Thessia, families head to the temples to pray to their goddesses. On Palaven Young Turians at boot camp are gathering in the courtyard for a Celestial game of football. Salarians on Sur'kesh work in labs of various experiments, but several sneak gifts to their lab partners beneath the tables. The Volus World, the Quarian Fleet, even Tuchanka people of all species would take a moment to think of others: their family, their friends, their comrades, their coworkers, their clan, their customers.)  _

_ (The planets fell from view and Saren was being pulled to the deep video of space surrounded only by stars. He could see his breath in front of him, but he felt no cold. He was weightless, and felt no fear of falling.)  _

_ (THANE coughs again. The world around them fading away)  _

THANE: Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness. Kalahira, wash the sins from this one, and set him on the distant shore of the infinite spirit….

_ (The rest fades away)  _


	12. SCENE V: The Spirit of Celestial Yet to Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: 
> 
> Saren Arterius  
> Legion  
> Garrus Vakarian  
> Castis Vakarian  
> Solona Vakarian  
> Jane Shepard  
> David Anderson  
> Donald Udina  
> Councilor Tevos  
> Councilor Sparatus  
> Councilor Valern  
> Sovereign

_ (SAREN senses someone behind him)  _

SAREN: You are the final spirit of what is yet to come.

_ (SAREN turns to find himself on a Geth ship. fro m down the hallway enters LEGION)  _

LEGION: Arterius Spectre: Saren.

SAREN: If you have something to show me, then do so.

_ (LEGION turns after a beat and goes down the hallway, SAREN follows. They go through a portal and appear in the Council chambers on the Citadel. The COUNSELORS are speaking with ANDERSON, UDINA, and SHEPARD) _

SPARATUS: _(raising a hand for silence)_ Enough! We need to focus on the issue at hand.

UDINA: You know the issue. Now do something about it! If it was a Turian colony action would already have been taken!

TEVOS: Your assumptions are out of bias Ambassador, the fact is you knew the risks when deciding to colonize out of the Traverse.

VALERN: There is no physical evidence to support your claim of the attack. It was Geth, which will be investigated immediately. 

ANDERSON: He murdered Nihlus in cold blood!

SHEPARD: He never treated him like a friend, it was a lie to catch him off guard!

SPARATUS: Commander Shepard, I suggest for the sake of your mentality and candidacy into the Spectres you keep speculations to yourself. The visions the...dreams, it is nothing worth mentioning, and all of it to accuse our agent of going rogue-

SHEPARD: I’ll get your evidence. Then i’m going to bring him in. He needs to pay for the hundreds of thousands he killed on Eden Prime, not just Nihlus. _(she exits)_

_ (LEGION turns to open another portal, and Saren follows, appearing back at the vakarian apartment- which is now colder, darker, and quieter. CASTIS sits quietly in mourning at the kitchen table)  _

(SOLONA enters) 

SOLONA: Nothing. None of my contacts can find him.

(CASTIS’s Omni-Tool began beeping)

CASTIS: Hello?

GARRUS: Dad.

CASTIS: Garrus? Is that you? What’s that noise?

GARRUS: Just a little target practice.

CASTIS: Then call me back later.

GARRUS: I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. Too many targets.

CASTIS: …I see.

GARRUS: I just wanted to hear your voice. Wanted to know how retirement was treating you. You good?

CASTIS: I’m fine. Forget about that.

GARRUS: Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. I wanted to say… you were right about things. A lot more than I gave you credit for. And I’m sorry we butted heads so much.

CASTIS: I said, forget about that. These targets you’re practicing on – they’re moving fast?

GARRUS: So far, not fast enough. But they’re learning.

CASTIS: How are your thermal clips?

GARRUS: You know how it is. Could always use a couple more.

CASTIS: Work with what you’ve got, then. You don’t stop pulling that trigger until it clicks, son. No matter how bad things are falling apart around you, as long as you have at least one bullet left, you can still get the job done. Understand? You finish up what you have to do there, and then you come on home. We have a lot to sort out-

_ (A roar took over all other noise on the other end, an engine with shouts from what to be assumed was the pilot. Shouting something along the lines of ‘Archangel’.  _ _ GARRUS swore right before something exploded. The line crackled, and cut out.) _

CASTIS: Garrus? Garrus!

_ (LEGION and SAREN exit)  _

SAREN: Spirit, where was he?

_ (beat as LEGION shows a hologram)  _

Omega, why Omega? that cesspool was safe for no one, especially Spectres. The fledgling needed guidance, needed grounding, not just to act on whatever whim.

_ (SAREN closes his eyes to think, when he opens them. He is back in the Citadel: on fire, face to face with SOVEREIGN)  _

SOVEREIGN: You have done well.

SAREN: What have I done?

_ (he realizes he is at the controls of the council chambers. Around him are dead bodies of a krogan, a quarian, and SHEPARD. Geth troopers under his command await for him. In the sky reapers begin to emerge from the relay signaling the invasion of the new cycle)  _

SOVEREIGN: Phase one is complete This cycle is ours once more.

_ (SAREN looks in his reflection to see that more changes have been made to him. He looked less and less like himself, barely a shell of who he was.) _

SAREN: What did you do to me?

_ (a reaper noise wails)  _

SOVEREIGN) Transformation complete. You obey us.

SAREN:  _ (seeks out LEGION)  _ What of the others? Answer me! 

_ (He is now surrounded by Geth and husks. A Banshee screeches from the balcony. A Marauder who was once NIHLUS appears next to SAREN, and he realizes that he was the one who killed him)  _

SAREN: I...I brought them here…I doomed the galaxy…This wasn't at all what Sovereign has promised me. Would submission would not be preferred to extinction? I cannot do this alone! There has to be a way. 

_ (SAREN struggles to attack the husks that now get closer to him. SOVEREIGN tries to keep SAREN under control.)  _

SAREN: Why show me this if it's too late. Nothing can be done? What does the consensus say? Tell me it can change! Tell me I can change!

_ (SAREN rips off his arm)  _

I will honor what the Spirits have shown me!I will honor Celestial New Year for what it means- Organics are not hopeless!

SOVEREIGN: You betray us.

SAREN: I will not be your tool any longer. I submit to no one. I am Turian. Saren Arterius: Spectre. For Desolas, for the Turian race, and all other races of the galaxy. 50,000 years will no longer be counted. Your Cycle will come to an end!

_ (SOVEREIGN shoots a red laser at SAREN and everything goes black)  _


	13. SCENE VI: Saren’s Conversion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Saren Arterius  
> Garrus Vakarian  
> Solona Vakarian  
> Castis Vakarian  
> Mrs. Vakarian  
> Mordin Solus  
> Jane Shepard  
> Nihlus Kryik

_ (SAREN wakes up from the desk in his study on the Citadel. After checking his now working Omni-Tool he realizes it is Celestial New Years day, and he has time to fix his mistakes)  _

SAREN: It’s Celestial New years.. The Banquet, the Reapers, there’s time. Thank you Spirits for showing me the truth. How could I be so stupid! _(He looks at his reflection and is disgusted with all the cybernetics from the Reapers_ ) These ‘improvements must go. Now. 

_ (he begins prepping an operating table while dialing a friend)  _

MORDIN SOLUS: Spectre. Been a while. What do you need?

SAREN: I need you to look into a specific topic of research. I’m sending you coordinates. I’ll fill you in on the way over.

_ (back at the Vakarian apartment the family is up for holiday breakfast. MRS VAKARIAN is enjoying a cup of tea at the table while CASTIS and SOLONA are in the kitchen)  _

GARRUS: Happy Celestial New Years Mom. (hugs his mother at the table) 

MRS VAKARIAN: (hugging back) Oh thank you Son, and to you too.

_ (the doorbell rings and GARRUS answers. MORDIN enters)  _

GARRUS: ( _confused_ ) Hello?

MORDIN: _(Is distracted by the information on a datapad and holding a box in the other)_ Good morning. Pardon the early time, was assured you were all up. Was sent here by mutual contact. Mother has Corpalis Syndrome yes?

GARRUS: I don’t- 

MORDIN: ( _enters_ ) Am scientist. Doctorates in medicine but specialize in genealogy. Would like to see patient. Corpalis Syndrome nasty business. No known cure but am interested in seeing for myself now that I have time.

GARRUS: Who are you? Who sent you?

MORDIN: Ah, my apologies. Mordin Solus. Sent by Mutual contact. _(lifts box in his hand to show him)_ Greybox: Human invention actually; came across it in research of similar disease Alzheimer's. Can use this to store memories during treatment.

CASTIS and SOLONA: Treatment?

CASTIS: Garrus who is this?

GARRUS: He’s uh-”

MORDIN: Mutual contact. _(Approaches MRS VAKARIAN)_ Hello Mrs. Vakarian.

MRS VAKARIAN: Hello, are you my doctor?

MORDIN: Temporarily, can you hold this for a second?

_ (GARRUS’s Omni-Tool begins to ring. It is SAREN)  _

SOLONA: Garrus are you serious?

GARRUS: Just- give me a second. ( _answers_ ) YesSir.

SAREN: Garrus, I understand you’ve met Professor Solus. I need you to listen to me very carefully. 

GARRUS: Sir, I thought we were departing later?

SAREN: The departure is postponed. You will have the week off while I prepare for another mission of higher priority. But I ask for your appearance tonight after your family dinner.

GARRUS: How did you?-

SAREN: I will explain later. We have a banquet to attend tonight.

GARRUS: You mean- you mean the Celestial Banquet?

SAREN: Correct. I will meet you there. Wear something other than your armor Vakarian. I’m sure you can figure it out.

_ (SOLONA snickers, stops after a look from GARRUS)  _

GARRUS: Ok... what will you do?”

SAREN: I have something to take care of. Do not be late, it would be a bad impression on me if my apprentice was tardy.

GARRUS: A-apprentice?

SAREN: Yes. Garrus you have proven yourself more than capable of serving among my crew. I want your candidacy for the Spectres. But I will explain everything later. Mr Vakarian: should you have any protests we can speak privately at another time, but I think you can agree your son has much potential to be what the galaxy needs. 

_ (prolonged beat)  _

And... Happy Celestial New Years.

_ (SAREN clicked off before anyone could respond. The Vakarians all staring at each other in a mix of astonishment and...great uncertainty of what just happened. At the table Mordin hummed quietly to himself, unbothered by the strange change the ruthless Spectre had gone through) _

_ (It is the Celestial Banquet in a fancy ballroom where NIHLUS sees SAREN in formal attire)  _

NIHLUS: Saren? You came.

SAREN: Nihlus. Happy Celestial New Years my friend.

NIHLUS: Who are you and what have you done with Saren?

SAREN: It’s me Nihlus. I’ve come to a few realizations as of recent. If you’d allow me, I’d like to meet your protege. 

NIHLUS: Saren... _(enter SHEPARD in formal attire)_ Saren, this is Jane Shepard, my protege. Future Human Spectre. Shepard, my mentor and old friend Saren Arterius.

SHEPARD: Spectre.

SAREN: Shepard. ( _ beat _ ) I wish to apologize for what I have said of you Shepard. You have obviously worked hard to be here today. And if Nihlus sees the potential in you, as I have taught him, then his judgement is partially my own.

SHEPARD: Apology accepted Spectre. I appreciate that. I want nothing more than to prove myself.

SAREN: Then that can be arranged. I have a mission -a different one that needs my attention sooner than I thought. After the festivities of this holiday: I would...prefer to have a secondary team accompany me.

NIHLUS: You want us?...Us to…?

SHEPARD: _(lightly slapping NIHLUS’s arm_ ) We’re in. Whatever you need.

SAREN: This would be a good opportunity to properly evaluate the candidates on the field.

NIHLUS ( _spits out his drink)_ Candida _ tes _ ? 

SAREN: _(looks around the room)_ Slightly behind, but there he is.

NIHLUS: Who?

_ (Enters GARRUS in formal attire that doesn't quite fit him)  _

GARRUS: Sorry about that, I uh- had to borrow my dad’s. 

SAREN: Nihlus, Shepard. This is my nomination, Garrus Vakarian. 

_ (He nodded his head politely, shaking congratulations with Nihlus before hesitating by Shepard. She offers her hand in kind, holding his for a moment longer than normal. They locked eyes, saying absolutely nothing she blushes and pulls away)  _

SHEPARD: I guess we’re both on the chopping block.

GARRUS: Don’t worry. I’m told I make great conversation.

_ (the banquet begins and all is well) _

_ (In a few months, Garrus Vakarian would receive a call from his father that due to an anonymous donation his mother will be on the road to a recovery for a long life. Before that himself, Saren, Nihlus and Shepard traveled across the galaxy for the Turian's special top secret mission as one cohesive team of Spectres)  _

_ (One year later they are ready to defeat the Reapers, celebrating Celestial New Years with an expanded crew on the Normandy)  _

SHEPARD: Who’s like us!

EVERYONE: Damned few!

SHEPARD: Happy Celestial New Years everyone. Now- (cocks her gun at her side) Let’s go kill some reapers.   


**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really can't believe THIS is my first competed Mass Effect fanfiction XD  
> Merry Christmas everybody!


End file.
